Literati! Ok. ok. I get it. The contest is supposed to be ONLY about the first sentence. But this first sentence soooo makes me want to read more, and read more I did. The paragraphs that follow perfectly compliment a lovely start to a lovely story. I dare anyone to disagree with me on this. …
Ok. ok. I get it. The contest is supposed to be ONLY about the first sentence. But this first sentence soooo makes me want to read more, and read more I did. The paragraphs that follow perfectly compliment a lovely start to a lovely story. I dare anyone to disagree with me on this. Liliana found us through Victor Villasenor’s site: www.victorvillasenor.com
There it hung silently, the pearl earring on the ear of the universe, as we made our way to Alfredo’s Market on Linden and Aspen.
I was about six years old on that winter night. My father held my hand while I walked with my head tilted up towards the night sky. We were on our usual pan dulce run. As I remember, I told my dad, “Apa la luna nos esta siguendo,” “Dad the moon is following us.” I was confused, my childhood innocence didn’t understand why or how, wherever we turned, no matter how far we had walked, up above the moon was there, persistent. I remember him responding, “Ay que luna tan luna, no te preocupes yo le digo que ya no nos sigua,” “oh that moon, don’t worry I’ll tell it to not follow us anymore.” And he proceeded to tell the moon not to follow us. It didn’t bother me that it did, but my father was a silly man who always looked to sarcasm and silliness to make me feel better. Little did I know that the moon wasn’t going anywhere, if anything I’d go before it. This memory stayed with me forever and became one of my favorites. When I look at the moon now, I see it is the same one I stared in awe at that winter night of childhood wonder. I can’t help but wonder how many civilizations slept under the same moon, and if a child from ancient days wondered as I did, and if there father explained to them the ways of the universe. The moon has stood a silent witness to humanity. For the Aztecas, it was metztli in nahuatl the indigenous language.. For my father it was La Luna, the very same moon that was the only light that lit his journey through the desert. For me, it’s an entity that lives in me as a reminder that while we as humans are not eternal, we are all the same, and that we share the same moon. La luna es la misma, the moon remains the same.
Welcome to A Word with You Press, Liliana.