“Ernesto, where are you going?” his mother called to him. “To the cemetery with remembrances,” he yelled back, straightening his backpack and taking off at a run. When Ernesto got to the graveyard, he made a sharp left, running along the wrought iron gate to a small plot of land just beyond it. Large rocks and some small crosses dotted the patch, but leaves made it impossible to see most of the ground. “I need to hurry,” Ernesto mumbled. He didn’t want the Dia de Los Muertos celebrations to start with no gifts set out. He unpacked his bag, putting tennis balls and squeaky toys around, setting treats on the stones, and laying a couple of sparkly collars across a mound or two (Senora Tomi had given him those). “There,” Ernesto said proudly, taking a moment to close his eyes and say a prayer when he was done. He missed his grandma and grandpa very much - his two uncles and third grade teacher, too, but they had visitors and beer and cigarillos tonight. He missed Bandito and Carmen and Torta even more, deep in his heart, and wanted them to know it.
Posted on: Sat, 01 Nov 2014 12:29:53 +0000