A black rosary cradles her palm and carefully fastens around her frail fingers. Every bead she gathers leads to the cross, grants resilience. The warmth of Abuelita’s hands secure mine. Her strap sandals, comfortable enough for bumpy, scattered streets. And my heels, short enough to last the way to the church. Humble neighbors dressed in grayscale clothing hunker down.
“Sentimos mucho su pérdida.”
La sala overfills but hushes from time to time with a hum of prayers and “Una Ave Maria.” Tia Rosalinda wanders the pasillos with a tray of tamales, y margarita cookies murmuring,
“Quieren un plato?”
La casa in Usulután has an odor of coffee so pungent, it could awaken Abuelo. Twice. My ‘Arpeggio’ alarm went off en la madrugada at 6:00 a.m., when I stood in front of his polished brown casket. Only I would disrupt such a peaceful moment. My sister squeezed my shoulder in disbelief.
“SHH… You are disrupting his sleep dude!”
The morning, heavy with incense and candle smoke. Pale white, long-stemmed roses, red carnations, yellow daisies. They stand tall in the sparkling crystal filling the room like the Botanical Gardens from the Bronx. The aroma of petals lingers like sweet Moscato wine.
Such citrus perfume reminded me of Abuelito’s room. I daydream of when he made me laugh. Abuelo would sway on the hammock, smoking his cigarettes behind Abuelita’s back. ‘Fumando’ risked his health; it was just too irresistible. He’d tell me dad jokes only corny people would laugh at. Cheesy enough, I shared the jokes with my friends back up East.
My uncle approaches me and my resting bitch face activates. He interrupts my vision with his ill intent smirk. He reminds me of Shrek. Everyone’s “favorite” tio metido. Always asking stupid questions. But you must be careful of what you comment about him; he will throw a tantrum. No, thank you! I prefer to scoot next to my Abuelito in his coffin than to hear Juan brag about tonterias. I take a deep breath to control my quivering voice.
“Con permiso!”
Before Juan could say something to me, I let go of Abuelita. I brush off the crumbs of the cookies from my dress, and proceed towards el portón.
Reina Romero is a transfer student at Central Connecticut State University. Her major is English Elementary Education. Previously, she was a preschool teacher for three years. She is honored to be a part of the Helix, along with other great writers.