walk around , saying that we have always belonged here . It ’ s simply not true ! No one can truly belong to a place , have it tie you down forever . You only belong somewhere if you choose to .” Finished with her rant , which had surprised me as much as anything else today , my grandmother gave me a few final words . “ You dream of seeing places ? Then go see them ! Simple as that ,” she proclaimed .
“ Run away ?” I asked . If I left , there would be no escaping Tía ’ s wrath if I ever returned . But why did I have to ? “ But what will I do for food ? It ’ s not as if I could take a whole pantry , and even then it wouldn ’ t be enough .”
“ I see you ’ ve thought about this . You know how hard it will be ? Do you know the river two days south ?” I nodded . “ Take your fishing pole , the one we made and use that . But when you get to the river , cut me a bouquet of the wild roses , the ones yellow like the sun , and wrap them in that handkerchief there .” Having been quiet this far , I saw no reason to interrupt my grandmother in what might be the last time we ever spoke .
“ Goodbye , Abuela . I will miss you the most of all .” I smiled , too bittersweet for the moment .
“ Go ! You don ’ t have a minute to spare ! I can hear your aunt coming ! I will tell her you brought me my soup and went to draw maps under your tree .” My tree was one more thing I knew I could never see again . I looked one last time at my grandmother , the strongest person I knew , and fled .
I had reached the river after two days of hard riding , just as my grandmother had said . She must have been here once before in her youth , I supposed . But before anything else , I had a promise to keep . I was surrounded by a field of wildflowers , which glowed softly in the light of the setting sun . As I drew closer to the river ’ s edge , I saw the roses my grandmother had described . I cut a few with my knife , and took my handkerchief out of my pocket to wrap the roses . As I was wrapping them , a thorn pricked my thumb through the fabric . A stain quickly began to spread over the beautifully embroidered fabric .
Perhaps I gasped , but not only at the blood . For as the blood spread , black swirls began to envelop the fabric . Strangely , they resembled the tattoos that covered my own hands .
Mystified by the change to the handkerchief , I slowly drifted off to sleep with the rush of the river in my ears and the stars overhead . I had cut the roses .
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