In Search of Wild Roses
Teadora G ( 8th Grade )
I knew I was in trouble when my fingers started smoking . As I walked through the revelry of the night , I tried my best to hide my fingers in my long saffron sleeves . No luck . A small girl , not even four years old tugged on my sleeve . Her shriek was quickly followed by a giggle as she tapped me on the hand and ran into the crowd . She vanished quickly in the sea of bright dresses and robes , all worn to celebrate the last glorious day of summer before the traders arrived with their goods , and the rains with their stormy days .
I quickly tugged the map out of one of my many pockets and waved my smoking fingers over it . The purple smoke , which smelled faintly of honey and cinnamon sunk into the fabric of the map like a storm over the sea .
As soon as the smoke had set in , the writing of the map vanished , only to be replaced with more directions . According to the map , I was supposed to wander all over the festival , picking up a porcelain mask here , and a flask of dream-cider there until I arrived at a storefront with an overturned cart of exotic fruit .
“ Here , Abuela . I brought you some soup for your cold .” Of course that wasn ’ t the only reason I was there . When I found the handkerchief in one of my grandmother ’ s boxes , there had been a note pinned to it in my grandmother ’ s handwriting . If only I had more time . With that one sentence , my grandmother became the most interesting person in this small village .
“ Achh ! This cold might be the death of me , and you bring me soup ?” But even as she said it , she had a twinkle in her eye . My grandmother was the kind of person that had enough stories to put a screaming toddler to bed , enough smiles to , and a sharp enough tongue to burst an inflated ego . Today she still had the sharp tongue and smile , but I was hoping that my grandmother still remembered some of the stories of her youth . “ Come here , niña . I want to see someone inspiring before the clouds come .” “ But you heard what Tía said .” My aunt ’ s harsh words spiraled through my head . ‘ You ’ ll never be anything less than some pretty wife locked away ,’ she had said .
‘ You ’ ll have your children with some old man , grow old before your time , and die . I ’ ll make sure of it ! You failed every test we ever gave you , just to waste your time dreaming of elsewhere .’ She said elsewhere like a dirty word , which I suppose it was , to her . She had never left this village , and wouldn ’ t until the day she died . ‘ This is the only path left for you , my niece .’ The words echoed through my head , racing me through every emotion . Anger . Fear .
Shame . Hope . Defiance . She might not leave , but I would . I was determined to be more . “ Ignore her !” My Abuela ’ s voice pulled me back . “ She stayed here , never dreaming of anything . My daughter may be loved here , but you will see everywhere . I can guarantee it .”
Her words ! No one ever dared to speak of my aunt in such a manner , not even her own mother . A small smile curled across my lips . Free ! “ How ? She promised to marry me off to some old man !”
At this , my grandmother just shrugged . Sometimes I imagined that she shrugged her way through everything in life , just stopping words with a roll of her shoulders . “ Turn out your pockets , Valencia .” I did so , and was surprised when she asked to see the handkerchief I had found . “ This was mine once . Did your aunt ever tell you that ? No , she wouldn ’ t . She likes to
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