I WATCHED YOU with curiosity. The air was filled with a scent of lavender and Downy. The windows were open, the summer breeze pushed your unspoiled white curtains, the room was bright, the plants were pleased, photographs filled the bedroom with memories. The noise from the streets came in and out like waves of disruptions. You hum a melody that is strange to me. Your fingers gripped the iron, and steam floated up your lovely, glistening face. You wrinkled your nose and giggled a bit, stroking the pants on the ironing board gently like you would rub my back when I was afraid. With every stroke, you hum the melody that is strange to me. You captured my gaze, smiled, and said, “Momma’s dreaming.”
Photo above: Momma’s Dreaming, 9x12" photograph, © Tamara Torres.
“I grew up honoring and respecting La Muerte. She was never someone I feared but someone I saw as an energy that is part of life and part of me.” Maestra CC weaves together a reflection on her lifelong relationship with death, the Mexhika tradition of el Día de los Muertos, and her current bout with cancer.
“It is time to call your spirit back home. So, say your name aloud. Call your spirit back so that it may reanimate your body, mind, and heart.” Xochi Quetzalli, maestra and practitioner of curanderismo, offers a reflection on cultural susto and a velación to prepare for el Día de los Muertos.
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Thank you. Gracias. Tlazocamati.