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For the girl, writing about the Restinga of Grussaí is to remember the summers
of her childhood in a space in which sand, plants and animals come back to her mind tied
to people, to trivial episodes, fleeting scenes that insist on being in people’s memories.
It is to remember her mother who had an unconditional love for that place. It is to relive
the time of the dim light and the difficult communication with the city. The recreation was
to enjoy the family living and the best things the place offered − the Northeast wind, the
sun light, the smells, the wish to enjoy all moments.
Reliving the restinga of the childhood is to rescue all the things the physical environment
used to provide − freedom and complete safety to enjoy the few weeks available to us
at the maternal grandfather’s house. Set at the end of Avenida Liberdade, the property
looked like a farm, and that is the reason why the girl reminds most the facts that happe-
ned there and in the surroundings than the times she went to the sea or visit the nearby
localities.
The house, closed during all the year, required a true move. The large suitcases
were packed in advance and smelled of naphthalene (mom’s care). The girl does not
forget the excitement when passing through Cajueiro, because already there, the wind
carried the smells of Grussaí − salsaparrilha? The olfactory memory extends itself to the
house, opened on the eve. The old wooden floor that Caboclo Rangel used to wash with
boiling water (he said it was to kill centipedes and other undesirable bugs), cotton waste
on fire to kill hornets, machete at the waist for the case of any snakes. Oh ... and the so
typical smell of the horses in the old stable.
The first thing the girl used to do was to go with his brother to watch the opening
of the water hole in the mound in front of the house. A real expert, Caboclo knew exactly
where and how he should dig. We watched attentive and anxious waiting for the trickle of
clear water to appear little by little. Then, we got deeply sorry to see Caboclo carrying so
many buckets of clean water on his shoulders to fill the water pots. Caboclo Rangel was
an outstanding tales teller and he used to fill our evenings with his peculiar and striking
gestural speech. Sitting on the kitchen steps, we listened, quite fascinated, narratives in
which reality and fantasy stoked our imagination.To my brother Cláudio, my true partner in the summers of Grussaí.
All memory loves, remains forever.
(Adélia Prado)The girl and the restinga