Song of the Mockingbird: My Journey with Josefina

I tell Tía Dolores that I would like to go to the fandango. I look over at Josefina, worried she’ll be disappointed, but my friend grins. Tía Dolores says it’s good to have enjoyment now and then, especially at the end of a harvest. Josefina claps and says tonight I can sleep with her. It’s late, and we must be up early for chores.

Tía Dolores traces the sign of the cross on Josefina’s forehead, and then on mine, her fingers soft and smelling faintly of lavender. I follow Josefina into the courtyard, where the sky is inky black and scattered with stars shimmering like diamonds. I want to stand and stare, but Josefina leads me on to the room where I rested earlier.

Clara and Francisca are already there, tucked into their sheepskin beds, the candle flickering low. Josefina unties her sash and takes off her skirt, folding both neatly into a trunk in the corner instead of changing into pajamas. I do the same. Wearing just her white blouse, she unrolls our bedding and climbs in. I wonder what she’d think of the pajama bottoms and t-shirt I sleep in at home.

Josefina sits cross-legged in bed and takes down a small broom, the size of a whisk and tied with a ribbon, from a peg on the wall. She undoes her braid and runs the broom through her hair like a brush, then helps me comb out mine before I comb hers. Her long hair has waves and curls at the end, and the little brush does a surprisingly good job pulling out the tangles.

I remember my sleepovers with Danielle, sleeping on the floor in our sleeping bags and doing each other’s hair. I always liked a French braid best. I was worried I’d feel homesick spending the night in this world, but as Josefina blows out the candle and we snuggle into the soft sheepskin, I almost feel at home.