A small figure in jeans and a t-shirt flew out of the barn and ran at full speed towards the driveway. Familiar bright auburn hair glowed in the sunlight and haloed a sun kissed face graced with a smattering of freckles.
“Stacie!” Rowan yelled, then jumped up and down with all the enthusiasm a small eight year old girl could muster while she waited for her to park. As soon as Stacie cleared the vehicle, Rowan was off like a shot, barreling across the lawn as fast as she could go, only to throw herself into open arms for an honest to goodness hug.
“Ughh, don’t squeeze so hard. You’ll break me.”
“Hah! No, I won’t!”
“No, I don’t suspect you will. Maybe next year. You’re getting bigger every year.” Stacie laughed. “Where’s everybody at?”
“Well Daddy and Rob are out in the field and Mom is at the house. She said to come up after you’re done with the horses.” Solemn gray eyes peered into hers and she added in a guilty sounding whisper. “She’s not feeling well today.”
“She’s not? Well, then maybe we should go into town and buy something sweet for dessert, huh?” Stacie asked. She waited until she put Rowan down before frowning. Josie had begged off of more and more of their little excursions lately.
Something didn’t feel right.
Chapter Two
Maria Perez Rivera missed the open air market from back home, but the farmer’s market she had stumbled upon almost made up for it. Of course, their selection of chiles was abysmal compared to what she was used to, even though she had found some lovely tomatillos and poblanos to add to her menu. The next stall wasn’t much better. She clicked her tongue against her teeth in dismay at the sad state of some of the vegetables. Organic didn’t have to mean small and stunted, nor did it mean having to share her lettuce with the bugs that had gnawed along the edges.
With a polite smile and nod of her head, she backed away from the artificial shade of the simple metal legged shelter and back into the bright summer sunshine. Unlike the wilted vegetables, she felt rejuvenated by the sun and tilted her head back to enjoy the warmth on her face. Red light danced beneath her eyelids. With her eyes closed, she could imagine she was anywhere. It was the best part of being aware of the earth beneath her and sky above her. It didn’t matter where she was, the sun would always find her and the earth would always ground her—she was always home. She felt connected to the universe in a way so many others seemed unable to accomplish. It was her greatest desire to teach others how to stop running so hard they had no time to just enjoy the gift that was their life.
Maria opened her eyes and watched the movement of the crowd around her. Frantic, slow, fast, determined…they all moved around each other with the same discordant actions of an ant hill after someone had kicked it open. She took a deep breath, expecting to inhale the scent of expensive perfumes and overcooked hotdogs from the vendor down the way. Instead, the calming scent of sage found its way to her. Just a wisp and barely surviving amidst the crowd, but still there. She followed it, abandoning the dusty aisle to slip between two stalls rather than going around. A tall, thin woman stared at her suspiciously when she walked too close to the boxes of expensive nuts she kept stacked behind her tables. Maria rolled her eyes and kept going. The woman was almost the same shade of brown as she was, but where Maria had come by her bronzed skin honestly through her Native American heritage, the other woman was artificially baked by too many hours lying beneath a sun too intense for her Nordic blood. She looked dried out, wrinkled and prunish like her grandmother, without the years of wisdom the elderly woman had on her.
“Sorry, Abuela,” Maria whispered, feeling guilty for comparing the two women. She wasn’t supposed to be so judgmental, and besides, her grandmother would kill her for saying she was wrinkled. “Every line on my face is a lesson learned, a mile walked, a smile, a frown, they are laughter and even tears. These are all things that make us human, a reminder that our time here is short and we must choose how much we do with it,” she had told her one day after a client had left.
Abuela was a respected Curandera, a folk healer well versed in the use of herbs and natural remedies. Maria had nodded, in awe of the older woman and trying very hard to understand what she was telling her, then ran off to her room to look in the mirror…desperate to find a wrinkle that proved she was becoming wise. It had taken many more years of looking in mirrors before she found that proof, and by then the woman that had always seemed larger than life had diminished in size, if not stature. Before she had left for California to continue her studies, she had visited her grandmother to say goodbye. Maria was not a tall woman, but when her grandmother pulled herself up from her chair to accept her hug, she had barely stood as high as Maria’s shoulder. She had kissed her grandmother’s forehead and squeezed her as gently as possible, then left the desert and the high mesas of their small border town and went in search of other truths.
Homesickness welled up inside her. Was the simple smell of burning sage enough to bring back beloved memories and throw the amount of time at her between then and now? She thought about it and then discarded the idea. She had come here looking for familiar foods, for the comfort of childhood
