Not the sewing machine itself but the knowledge of how to use it, the experiences with it and her and the lessons about creating something out of nothing, about repurposing, about being self-sufficient and most of all, about being of service. These were the gifts my mother shared when she had no money to share … Continue reading A gift from my mother
Sometimes the memory rushes in so unexpectedly the heart aches so much so, the eyes cannot contain it and release it the only way they now how. The flood begins as if a dam had been broken – the one holding back the momentos of long ago. Love loving loveliness spilling over so forcefully, long … Continue reading sometimes the memory rushes in
Our filaments webbed intertwined, forever binding us in this life and the next he and I, my primo and me. We grew up together and though in adulthood we were apart, our memories remain- watching our mothers make our halloween costumes, easter egg hunts, empanadas and Christmas laughter. All of it remains and it now … Continue reading in this life and the next
She came to me in a dream. And she hugged me. She wasn’t sick; she was her healthy self and I felt her hug—actually felt it while I slept—her arms around me as she told me “It’s okay mija. It’s okay.” And I could see her, I could hear her voice. Not a jumbled foggy indiscernible … Continue reading she came to me in a dream…
We slept like sisters she said, her heart broken… las tres en una cama en Venice. It’s all she could bring herself to say still in disbelief. Pero como, ay dios, she would say and sigh as she looked at pictures and told the same stories over and over again as if that would bring … Continue reading we slept like sisters…
She heard the clickety-clack of the horse as he approached and she knew she had stayed out too late…but she also knew he would save her from a scolding. El sol que quedaba del día resplandeciente contra su sombrero… el la miraba con sus ojos azules desde tan alto sentado en su caballo.. todavía olía … Continue reading el extrañarlo mantiene su alma viva
so that you can see it coming soon enough to take a second to pore over words smiles gestures moments you will never recover the wisecracks on a tractor and his cowboy hat the outrageous but true stories before bed her hot chocolate y calabacitas en jocoque the what happened to your nose as it … Continue reading why won’t the heart or mind warn you
He gazed at his namesake as if for the first time. His mind diseased, his body frail, his family in agony. His end was near and the memories of his past fluttered through his mind in a disarray of jumbled thoughts–the house his hands had built, children he once scolded, grandchildren he teased–all became one. … Continue reading don chucho
What I carry under my skin are memories that have grown from fragmented roots; roots infected by a family history of forsaken children and deserting parents. My father did not raise me. From the time I was 7 years old until I was 18 years old, I saw him only a handful of times. This … Continue reading what i carry under my skin…
estoy desgranando 