Song of the Mockingbird: My Journey with Josefina

I open my eyes to gray twilight. Josefina cries “Buenas Dias” right in my face as soon as I wake up, already dressed and buttoning her skirt over her blouse. I push myself up and see a single small window glowing rosy with sunrise. They get up early here.

Clara says we have a busy day ahead: chores first, then the village. Francisca cannot wait for all the dancing tonight and whirls around the room until Clara frowns. There’s a lot to do first.

Josefina gives me a sideways smile. She says Tía Dolores fixed the tear in my skirt last night, so we need to dress quickly, and Josefina still needs to fetch water from the stream. I pull on the clean, mended skirt and braid my hair. Josefina and her sisters put on the same clothes they wore yesterday, too. I’m guessing that without a washer and dryer in the basement, laundry is much harder.

When Josefina returns with the water jug, there are more prayers at the altar, then bread and fresh goat cheese for breakfast. We wave to Señor Montoya as he mounts his horse and sets off for Santa Fe. Then Clara, Ana, Tía Dolores, Josefina, and I start off for the village, carrying squash, chiles, and dead chickens to be turned into stew. Francisca stays behind to take care of Ana’s little boys and help Teresita, Carmen, and the other servants prepare food for tonight.

We walk briskly along the dusty road leading from the rancho, the crisp air scented with wood smoke. Josefina and I must trot to keep up with the others. Josefina is excited to visit everyone. She hasn’t seen Señora Sanchez for a few weeks. She and a few other women from the village grew up with Mamá, and Josefina has known them all her life.

A powerful ache throbs in my middle. I want to feel like this place is part of my skin and blood, the way it is for Josefina. We walk by plowed fields crowded with cornstalks and pumpkin vines, cut through by a bubbling stream with little channels carved out leading to each field. Josefina calls them acequias, irrigation ditches, like a garden hose, minus the hose, the faucet, and the city water system.

Women kneel at the edge of the stream and call out greetings when we pass. Tía Dolores exchanges a few words with them while I watch a girl about my age scrubbing a shirt in the river with a shredded-up plant as soap. Clean shirts, skirts, and pants are spread on bushes to dry.

About twenty minutes later, Tía Dolores calls out that we can see the village. I expect a bustling little town with shops and people going in and out, but all I see are a few adobe houses arranged around a square plaza, surrounded by thick fences and corrals for goats and horses. Not a shop in sight. The bustling crowd is a few women grinding corn outside with a mano and metate, and boys playing some game with long sticks.

I try to match Josefina’s enthusiasm. It’s cute, just not very… busy. I’m starting to realize there are far fewer people in Josefina’s world. A girl named Ofelia comes up and tells the Montoyas to have a good day. Clara points out Señora Sanchez’s house next to the church, where lively chatter, delicious smells, and the sound of knives chopping come from the open doorway.

The church is made of adobe, just like the houses, but bigger and taller, with a bell hung high above the door. It looks like the old churches Dad showed me in Santa Fe, but newer. I picture my old self in jeans, standing among the sightseers in one of those old churches. I really have traveled through time.

Tía Dolores says Señora Sanchez is expecting us, but we also have herbs to deliver to Tía Magdalena. She asks if Josefina and I would rather take them to Tía Magdalena or go straight to Señora Sanchez to start the party preparations. Josefina turns to me. I hesitate. The party preparations sound fun, but I want to meet Josefina’s special Aunt, too. This might be my only chance.