Song of the Mockingbird: My Journey with Josefina

Josefina opens her eyes and says we must get back to the house quickly. Miguel lifts Sombrita as if she’s a toy, and we start off down the slope. I can see the square shape of the house at the top of the hill a few rises away.

I can’t believe I’ve just seen an actual mountain lion. I ask Josefina if Sombrita will live. She says she hopes so. She can’t bear to lose her. The little goat’s eyes are closed, and she lies limply in Miguel’s arms, her heartbeat weak. We must hurry.

Tía Dolores rushes toward us as we enter the house and sends a servant to fetch Tía Magdalena from the village. She draws us close as Miguel carries Sombrita into the courtyard and lays her on a hide. We kneel over her to keep watch. Her eyes are closed, and the rebozo is soaked with blood.

After what seems like an eternity, Tía Magdalena bustles in, followed by Ana and Tía Dolores. We breathe a sigh of relief at the gray-haired presence, though there’s no time for introductions.

Tía Magdalena unties the rebozo and feels around the wound. The gash is partly closed now, its edges hardened and the blood around it gummy. Tía Dolores sets a bowl of steaming water at her elbow, and Tía Magdalena pours in something that smells like vinegar, bathing the wound until the blood and dirt wash away. Then she spreads a strong smelling salve over it from a small jar, saying it will keep the wound from festering and heal it without stitching. She tells Josefina to bind it tightly.

Josefina winds the bandage carefully around the goat’s shoulder, chest, and upper leg. Sombrita’s eyes flicker open a little. Josefina strokes her head, telling her to lie still and let her shoulder heal, then draws up a second hide as a blanket. Sombrita’s body relaxes, as if she understands.

Tía Magdalena says Josefina was right to bind the wound immediately, that her instincts were correct. I can tell Josefina respects her greatly.

Ana gives Josefina a little hug, and Tía Dolores beams, glad Sombrita will make a full recovery.

Josefina and I carry the goat tenderly to a wide shelf above the kitchen fire, the shepherd’s bed and the warmest spot in the house at night. It’s where she slept with Sombrita when she first took care of her, and where she’ll watch over her again now.

We sink to the floor and rest our elbows on the hearth. Josefina says she’s so tired, and I realize I am, too, now that the excitement is over and a great weariness has settled over me. The kitchen is quiet, its clay jars and firewood giving off a faint woodsy scent.

Josefina closes her eyes and rests her head on her arms. I close mine, and a sudden longing for home sweeps over me, but strangely, it’s not for Chicago. It’s for our adobe house, so much like Josefina’s, where my family is waiting. I think of the trust Josefina has for Tía Magdalena, and how Dad asked me to trust him that life here would get better. Maybe I should.

The minutes pass in silence. Sombrita’s breathing turns slow and steady. She’ll be all right now. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. It’s a feeling I’m bringing back from Josefina’s world, that love and trust are waiting for me. All I have to do is go and find them.