Song of the Mockingbird: My Journey with Josefina

Señor Montoya parks the wagon in the central plaza and unhitches the mules, then takes out some folded papers to look over while they eat from the nosebags. Meanwhile, I watch a settler setting up his trade goods: stacks of blankets, strings of dark red chiles, and small seeds that Josefina says are pine nuts.

Then a voice calls out to Josefina, and I turn to see another girl running toward us, her heavy bangs falling almost to her eyebrows. She wears white moccasins like ours, and a blanket draped over one shoulder, tied at her waist with a sash.

It is Josefina’s friend, Mariana, who has a smile that makes everyone else feel like smiling, too. Josefina introduces me, and Mariana invites us to meet her grandfather, Esteban, who has brought pottery to sell. Before we can go, a man steps up beside us. I can tell he’s a patrón, like Señor Montoya. They greet each other, and Señor Montoya calls him Señor Jaramillo, who pulls him away to talk about the acequia near the edge of the village.

Something catches my eye. Señor Jaramillo has a clay flute strung around his neck on a cord. It’s a bird, too, but smaller than mine, with no wing or feather markings. Josefina tells him that I have a flute, too, and I look up, startled. I didn’t expect her to remember or mention it.

Señor Jaramillo asks to see my flute, saying fellow musicians like to look at new instruments. I untie the pouch at my waist and hand it over. He calls it skillfully made, finer than his own. He hands it back to me and asks if I would like to trade it.

I say no immediately. But then Señor Jaramillo pulls out a small blue-green rock, the size of a quarter. I gasp, and Josefina’s breath catches: it’s a piece of turquoise. Señor Jaramillo says it isn’t valuable, but it’s beautiful, glowing in his hand like a piece of fallen sky. With his other hand, he reaches for my flute.