Human mind is awesome, right? Sometimes is capable to change or even lock some remembers to keep our mental sanity and integrity. But sometimes the memories can be unlocked suddenly, and sometimes, triggered by some external event, that forces our mind to remember those memories.
Well, this is my story. I grew up in the mountains on this country, far away from the nearest city and with almost no access to the rest of civilization, with not much human interaction, and with the ideas that I learned at home that for me were laws. I don’t remember my father, only my mother, because he disappeared from our lives when I was two years old. In my memory, about him, just stayed the pictures that my mother saved into our family photo album and the stories about what kind of person he used to be. The truth is that he was the kind of man I would wish to had grown up with, a good husband, not a drunk one as was the custom in the biggest part of men in that place, a good working man, didn’t mistreated my mother and generally, a good man, very skilled, that did whatever was necessary to care and protect his family.
By not having a father who could work to provide to the family, I had to, since a child, help with, not just home tasks but also with the familiar economy, working as a shepherd to some of the neighbours that doesn’t had time to care for their flocks, but needed to somebody who took care of their animals. I used to get up really early in the morning, go through the different animal pens and pick them up to carry them to the high mountain to pasture. The steep roads weren’t really a great difficulty, and the prevailing solitude at those places doesn’t feel dangerous in any way, but, the only thing that was disturbing was that scarecrow stood up on the top of the mountain, alone, without any sense of being there, because there wasn’t any crop around there, and looking slightly scary, of a faded light brown colour, like it was made from animal skin, parched by sun exposure.
Eventually, with the flow of time, that scarecrow turned into a more and more familiar figure, to the point of start feeling certain kind of link with that object. Each day, it showed me the way with its figure on top of the mountain, kept me company when passing near it and at the afternoons, showed me the way when coming back, so it was a good guide in my daily work. Even today I can remember that woven straw hat over its head, one with a shape I didn’t see into anyone else on that area, what made it quite special, and that plaid scarf around the neck that, despite the years, seemed not to end of wear down completely, even with that totally deteriorated looking.
Over the years, my mother found a new husband, a good person, and that helped me to left that job and get occupied by studying and grow as person, to find out a better future. Years passed and I became an adult, studied a career and got a good job, which allowed my whole family to do nothing but their own things, my children study, and my wife is dedicated to her passion, arts, and I'm happy that no one of them have to do sacrifices like the ones I had to do when I was a child, for the welfare of the family.
Okay, so, the first words of this story had a clear reason to be. Despite the passing of the years, certain things never changed into the mountain people, between which there are the cattle raising... and the existence of rustlers... When I listened the news this morning about the catch of a gang of rustlers near where I used to live, my coffee mug slipped out of my hand, falling to the ground, breaking into pieces and staining everything around.
I could remember my mother telling me once, as a child, never to go with any gang of rustlers in the area, that they could frequent the areas where I used to be daily, because she didn’t want to lose anybody at the hands of the people’s justice.
While the shivers ran down my spine, my impulse was run to look for the family photo album, in which, on the third page, I could see a photo of my father, with his plaid scarf tied around his neck, and that peculiarly shaped woven straw hat on his head, one like no one else wore in the whole area... Except the scarecrow.