Hello friends. My name is Pablo and I live in a small kneepit deep in the jungles of Chiapas. Here you I make the stories happy and sad and some other places inbetween. I hope you like! Welcome here in my kneepit!

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

At last I find my Mamma

One day I am dragging my box of shiny bobbins along the sand when I looking into one bar and see my Mamma in some fancy dress, smiling at me.

My heart go crazy! Pablo is so happy I cry like some nutty fella.

But I see is just an old picture, rip a little, and at top it say ‘Rosita’. I get very confuse when I see this. She look so much beautiful just like how I remember, but me not sure why this not name my mamma. Maybe is not her really? So I ask the man working bar and he say she is very old picture, before when he work here. Best go speak with his boss in back room.

I drag my ass round the back where I am seeing some strange white hair fella look like some wild spirit from different world. I introduce myself to him polite:

“Ola senor. My name is Pablo and I come long long way looking for my lost Mamma. I see you have picture looking like her in bar – some lady called Rosita. But Pablo confused cos Rosita not my Mammas name, is Car-”.

“Carmena” finish the old man.


He look me hard with his big sad-bag eyes.

After a some time he say “Rosita was her stage name, Pablo.”

I must look back like some dumb ass no understanding.

“For singing, You know?”

Then I start to remembering her voice. The songs she sing when me bambino. I thinking of this when he say

“She was a fine singer your Mamma. Best we ever had in this town. Her songs could reach right inside even the hardest man and make him cry.

“Shame you got here too late.”

I feel my stomach start to hurt. I think I see her eyes looking at me. She is smiling.

I asking him, with all the hope I have, if maybe she go working someplace else? Or she come looking for me maybe?

“No Pablo, it’s none of those things. I’m sorry to have to tell you, but she died a few months ago – the night of the Summer Fiesta.”

I don’t know what happen then. Maybe I am fainting because next I know I am sitting down at table, some cup of hot matte burning my hands, listening to the man tell the tale.

“She knew she didn’t have long to go. She couldn’t hardly walk. But she insisted on singing, even though the doc told her to stay inside.

“We lit a huge fire for the festival. It was a clear, beautiful night. Dressed in her best red dress, eyes shining like the stars, she sang her heart out.

“When she finished there was not a dry eye on the beach, so strong was her pain, so beautiful her voice.

“Then the strangest thing happened. Just as she finished out of the forest came a swarm of fireflies. We all stood and watched them dancing in the night, round and round the fire, up and down, fast and slow, like they were dancing to some silent tune only they could hear. After some minutes of this, they suddenly upped and flew away back where they came from, leaving behind such a silence.

“It was then I looked over and saw she’d stopped moving.

“Doctor said she died because of her heart.”

With this the old man stopped and stared at the wall. I followed his soggy eyes to the wall behind me and saw a picture of momma, this one like the one I had of her by the sea, happy, young, alive. Except this time she had a small bambino in her arms. It was me. A baby Pablito.

The old man saw Pablo looking at the photo and held out a hand.

“She loved you more than anything Pablo. She dedicated the very last song of her life to you. The song was called Take Me Home. I remember it well. She said ‘this song is a new song, and also a very old song. Is for the one I love. I pray let him forgive me.”

We looked at each other sharing some new understanding.

“She’s buried up on the hillside overlooking the sea. I can take you there if you like.”

And so he did.


So this is it. The endings of my little story. I hope you like.

Remember please not be sad for me, Pablo is not sad.

Tomorrow is Day of the Dead, and I can be make the big happy party with my Mamma and all my new friends by the sea.

I am hoping you are all having a good party with all your dead family too.

Lots of love to all you my friends!


Pablo x

PS. don’t forget potatoes at the fiesta! Must always remembering - people never be sad when there are potatoes.


ElizT said...

Pablo, I am weeping tears as big as Jersey Bennes! Thank you for your story, both sad and happy ending up. You have inherited much story-telling jeans from your Mama [and maybe it was your Papa had a bent artisticle].
I look forward to tails of the small furry ones but please, potatoes are not best for them.

the heartful blogger said...

I send you big hugs Pablo, you will always be in my heart & thoughts.