windswept

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


 

Windswept

Her grandmother's skin was golden, not pale like hers and her American father's. Her grandmother called her a moderna, not tied to the old ways like she was, or even her mother, who was much more traditional. But they had bonded strongly anyway, as she cared for her during the day when her mother was a work. As she grew older, Aurora could not speak the indigenous language as easily as she had when she spent the entire day with her grandmother, before she entered school, before her immersion in her American life style replaced her first language with English. But she never lost her ear and understood everything her grandmother said without ever needing to translate in her head. It was just that her responses were halting and simple, the words of the four year old when she was fluent. But the culture was also one of touch and facial expressions and hand movements to communicate, especially emotions, so the bond remained, closer than even the bond between her grandmother and her mother.

Her grandmother had told her tales of the village where she was born since Aurora was a little girl. Aurora could picture her as a young girl sitting on a hill looking out over the expanse of dark mountains that surrounded her, wrapping her turquoise shawl around her as the early evening breeze drifted across her. She had described that spot over and over again to Aurora those last few weeks as she lay in her bed, debilitated by the diabetes and congestive heart failure. And then one day she took Aurora's hands in hers and asked her to take her ashes and free them into the wind on that hill.

Aurora looked out at her grandmother's spirit sailing out over the ring of mountains.


Submitted: June 19, 2021

© Copyright 2021 diane de anda. All rights reserved.

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