Song of the Mockingbird: My Journey with Josefina

I follow Josefina into a large, open courtyard with a floor of hard dirt and smooth stones. A walkway leads to another courtyard at the back of the house, and door openings in the walls lead to rooms beyond. A round clay thing, like a kiln, sits in one corner. Baskets of shiny red peppers sit nearby, and chickens cluck and peck about.

Josefina leads me over to where three girls and a woman sit in the middle of the courtyard. They’re dressed like her, but the older two girls and the woman wear their hair in low buns. The younger girl has a braid like Josefina and me. Josefina explains her aunt, Tía Dolores, is staying here at the rancho for a while, and introduces me to her aunt. She says I’m lost. Her voice lowers when she speaks to her aunt, showing respect. The girls all stop what they’re doing and stare at me.

Tía Dolores jumps to her feet, looks at my face, and touches my brow. Where did I come from? Before I can answer, she says I must be tired and need to rest. Josefina introduces her oldest sister, Ana, married with two sons, and her other sisters, Francisca and Clara. The girls all have red peppers in their laps. Josefina’s mother must be elsewhere in the house.

Ana invites me to sit next to her. I squirm on the rough woolen blankets, but the sisters look as comfortable as if they were sitting in armchairs. Josefina asks to make me some chamomile tea, and when Tía Dolores approves, she disappears into a doorway. This feels very real.

Josefina appears with a steaming cup, and I grab at it. She wipes my face with a cool, damp cloth that feels wonderful against my dusty skin. I take a tentative sip of tea, which looks like the pottery mugs Mom buys at art fairs, and feel my muscles unclench as the warmth spreads through me. I smile at the sisters, who watch me anxiously, then go back to sorting peppers.

Clara breaks the silence to ask what I’m holding. I look down and realize I’m still clutching the clay bird flute. I open my hand and see it looks different now: cleaner, no longer dusty, the chip on the tail gone. Francisca asks if she can see it, and I hand it to her. She says it’s beautifully made and graceful. When she sees the name on the bottom, she asks if my name is María.

I nod uncertainly and tell them the mockingbird flute is very important to me. This doesn’t feel like a dream anymore, but I don’t know what else it could be. I tell Tía Dolores I feel dizzy and ask if there’s a place to lie down. Her brow creases in concern, and she tells Josefina to take me to her sleeping sala to rest.

Josefina leads me through a doorway into a small room with plain adobe walls, where big rolls of soft material are stacked against one wall. A blue-and-white blanket hangs from a rod on the other, its fibers woven so smoothly it looks stunning. Josefina blushes and says it’s the first blanket she wove by herself. Mom recently taught me how to sew on a button. Weaving a whole blanket would be like me cooking Thanksgiving dinner for twenty.

Josefina assures me I’ll be comfortable here and kneels down to unroll a bundle, a sheepskin and some more blankets. She explains she shares this room with Francisca and Clara, while Ana and her husband, Tomás, have their own room. I think of my four-poster bed at home. Josefina helps me lie down and covers me with a woven blanket. The sheepskins are surprisingly comfortable and smell vaguely like my favorite wool sweater.

The moment Josefina is gone, I sit up and try to think. This isn’t a dream. It’s something else. How did I get here? The flute came here with me. I was sitting on the rocks when I played it like the bird. I moisten my lips, place my fingers on the holes, and blow. It happens again. I feel myself falling through space into darkness, and then I hit the ground.