The Day of the Moon by Limon Graciela

The Day of the Moon by Limon Graciela

Author:Limon, Graciela [Limon, Graciela]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Arte Público Press
Published: 2011-09-07T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter 13

Three weeks later, Isadora sat waiting for Jerónimo in a hollow overlooking the path from the plain up to the village center. The sun was setting, and she enjoyed the soft breeze at her back, ruffling her hair forward. She gazed at the sky, taking in the shades of lavender that blended with orange and pink hues. Above her the sky was still a deep blue dotted by white clouds that scurried toward the horizon, as if being sucked in by the setting sun. She craned her neck in the opposite direction: The moon was new, a transparent crescent.

She looked down to the sweep of the plain below. She knew where her father’s land began and ended; much of what she was looking at belonged to Hacienda Miraflores. The image of herself, still a girl, riding by her father’s side, flashed through her mind. The memory shook her heart, as if a slight tremor had moved the earth beneath her. She sighed, scanning the distance, taking pleasure from the vastness and beauty of the land. To the north, in the convent school where she had spent her adolescence, other girls were learning and listening, just as she had done. To the west, the ocean rolled with its endless tides and ebbs.

Suddenly, Eloy flashed before her eyes, and Isadora jerked back, startled by the forgotten and unexpected memory. She thought it strange that she should think of him; she hadn’t in years. She chuckled, wondering what Narcisa would say to this. Was his spirit trying to reach her? Maybe he was dead. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the foolish thoughts going on inside. Then Eloy’s face moved aside, making way for that of Samuel, reminding her of the void left in her heart by his absence. Would he understand when he grew to be a man? She forced herself to think of something else.

She put her thoughts aside when her attention was caught by a dark speck on the flat land below that moved in her direction. She squinted, trying to focus her eyes on the object approaching her. She sat up when it became clear that it was a Rarámuri runner. He was alone, and not playing at racing; he was pressing himself to his limits of speed. She got to her feet, sensing that the boy carried important news, something out of the ordinary. In minutes, she saw that he had reached the beginning of the ascent and that soon he would be winding past her.

As the runner rushed up the path, his feet pounded the earth, lifting small billows of dust that trailed behind him. Isadora jumped out onto the pathway, knowing that soon the runner would be where she stood; she wanted to know the reason for his haste. When the boy was close enough to see her, however, he stopped so abruptly that he nearly lost his balance. He wheeled to the side and took another way, deliberately changing his direction.

The



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