![]() ![]() I had helped Mamá make them earlier that evening as You set in the west. I weaved through the crowd, holding the basket out, offering our tortillas for others. Even without You in the sky, though, las estrellas were many, were brilliant, and they cast a glow over all. This was a celebration of our lives, of surviving another day in the scorched and unbearable world that You left for us. ![]() They were not the only sound in the clearing, as most of los aldeanos were spread around an enormous central fire. ![]() “Montamos juntos y nos hacemos uno,” Amada sang, almost laughing as she made eye contact with her novia, Carmita. ![]() They sang of leaving their husbands behind and making the journey across the endless desert together. Rogelio was there and already drunk, strumming his guitar dramatically while two women harmonized over it all, their voices a complicated dance of melody and sadness. But they said nothing, did nothing, and we joined the rest of the celebration. We ignored them as we passed, but I could see them watching us as we went by, the fire lighting up their dour, bitter faces. It was where Julio and his men had made their camp over a month ago. We met the others at nightfall on the western side of Empalme, past the square and beyond the well. ![]()
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