I knew when I said “I do” 19 years ago to my best friend that life would interesting. We’ve had our ups and downs, but I always know I can count on Mike to be involved in what I do.
We spent quite a large portion of the evening “mapping” my Grandmother’s movements in Mexico. He broke out Google Earth and I pointed out places she had named in the journal.
For quite some time, I thought that the Camino Real was a river. Grandma mentioned that her mother, after a severe beating, took off running toward it. Not much else was said. I assumed it to be this massive, rushing body of water that she intended to through herself into. My Great-Grandmother spoke frequently of wishing that she would die or that the Devil would come and take her.
We searched for the Camino Real. We never found it. Water is scarce in that desolate, desert space. After some investigating, Mike and I realized that the Camino Real was a trail that led from Mexico to the United States. This made sense – my Great Grandmother new the things she endured were bad and wrong and that what she experienced would not go unpunished in the United States. My Grandma Cita mentions it frequently, thus the reason I named the manuscript Nothing is Ever Done When Someone Dies in Mexico.
There is this underlying theme of freedom and fair treatment. Now I need to investigate this even further. After coming to America, my Grandmother still endured atrocious behaviors and treatment at the hands of others. So now does it become about how we allow others to treat us all in the name of love, desire, and connection?