The Ombu that Remembers the Steps

 

The Ombu that Remembers the Steps

Consecrated version at the Portal of the Sun, Artigas, Uruguay

In the north of Uruguay, where the sun rises among rivers and stones, there is a place known as the Portal of the Sun. It doesn’t show up on ordinary maps, but those who have walked there recognize it by the silence that sings and the sky that seems to remember.

Beneath an ancient Ombu—wide as the arms of the wind—lives Mateo, a boy who writes the voices others forget. He doesn’t hear words; he hears footsteps. And each footstep, to him, is a story waiting to be born.

Every afternoon, Mateo sits by the trunk of the Ombu, with an inherited notebook, a warm mate in hand, and a gaze that seems to embrace the horizon. There, as the Cuareim River winds in the distance and a ceibo flower blooms among the grass, the ritual begins:

"What does a tree hold when people look at it without asking?"

The Ombu’s roots respond. They tell him of travelers who left laughter behind, of grandparents who sowed verses, of children who got lost in play and returned transformed into stars.

Mateo writes it all down. And in his letters, there is a glow, as though the paper itself remembers. Soon, his words begin to travel: they reach Mexico, Brazil, Japan. The Portal of the Sun becomes a bridge, and the Ombu sings in new languages.

One morning, a different kind of leaf falls from the tree. It has no veins, no autumn color. It carries light. And in it, Mateo understands that he’s not writing stories — he’s writing paths. That the tree does not belong only to him, but to all who know how to listen.

His final phrase, before journeying onward, was:

"The Ombu keeps the steps, but the Portal turns them into light."