I was nearby. Running a couple of errands. Lunch time. Bought me a

sandwich and opted for visiting my Mama’s grave. The old tree above it

was still providing a good shade. That tree looks as old as Methuselah.

I pulled out my lunch, water, cigars. Sat on the marble stone. Said hello

Mama. Heard some old bones hitting each other. Like a marimba.

Playing a melody as la Bamba. Guess she was happy to feel me. As I

was. My Mama loved music. She sang along with my father all the time.

They made musical love in the kitchen…living room…the patio…

everywhere. They loved singing. They loved boleros. I heard them sing

“ Sabor a mi…” about one thousand times. “ Bésame…” another million

times. That’s one of the reasons I’ve tried to learn to play the guitar.

But I’m terrible at it! My Mama was a very happy woman. She laughed

a lot. As a crazy kid. If she saw a butterfly…she would go after it trying

to hold her for a second. Yes, even in her old years. Neighbors would

think her to be a crazy woman. Little they knew my Mama lived fully.

Enjoying each and every second of her life. Even after my father died.

She told me she remembered that line from Zorba the Greek: If

tragedy strikes….dance…dance…dance…and she did. She would

gírate her whole body 360 degrees…and danced…well. I’m about

finishing my sandwich. I’m not coming back this evening. Sara hasn’t

been feeling well. Have to wait.

Ernesto Onofre