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LETTER TO MY MOTHER FOR MY SON
Dear Mother,
I want to let you know I'm going to be a mom.
Manel won't lack grandparents
or great-grandparents
or aunts and uncles
or a father.
Once upon a time there was a white butterfly
who was the queen of all the morning butterflies.
In gardens it settled on the loveliest flowers
and it whispered stories to the carnation and the violet.
The happy little butterfly, delighted and perky,
looked like an almond blossom stirred by cool breezes.
But a collector arrived one spring morning
and upon blossoming jasmine, imprisoned our queen.
He pinned her down on black cardboard
and took her to his museum of brief beautiful deaths.
Okay, and then from the part about the little butterfly?
Oh, alright.
Do you want me to do what comes after?
Yes, let's do it.
The morning butterflies wept in the woods.
A white butterfly settled on a carnation
and the carnation got upset.
White the butterfly, and red the carnation.
Red like the lips of I know who.
How will Manel get to know you if I barely got to know you myself?
If only there were a few more family albums.
I decided to make up a story about you for Manel.
I hope you like it.
Neus!
Turn a little this way.
No. The other way, dear. Like that.
You're too far forward.
Careful, you'll fall.
It's very long.
Oh no, look, it goes above the knee.
Otherwise, what will people say?
Little boy!
Once upon a time
there was a white butterfly.
Who was the queen of all the morning butterflies.
In gardens it settled
on the loveliest flowers
and it whispered stories to the carnation and the violet
this relaxes, you know?
It banishes all fear.
You'll see.
I felt so good when you were in my womb.
I like this song.
it looked like an almond blossom stirred by cool breezes
it's really good.
But a collector arrived
one spring morning
and upon blossoming jasmine, imprisoned our queen
he pinned her down...
I think I make movies to be able to invent you,
and invent myself.
Or maybe because I don't want to die.
And the boat goes and goes, and the steamer goes and goes
with a sprig of flowers I'll never be able to forget him
if the sky were ink, if the sky were paper
I'd write a letter to my beloved Manuel.
The happy little butterfly
delighted and perky
looked like an almond blossom stirred by cool breezes.
A white butterfly settled on a carnation
and the carnation got upset
white the butterfly and red the carnation
red like the lips of I know who
A big hug from your daughter,
Carla