When the sun hit the side of her window she would wake quickly. This morning the sound of the canons from the church awoke her quickly. The sound travelled through the streets, ringing on the doorbells of school children and teachers and bus drivers, the first to wake up.
“Buenos dias,” Lupe said to her loudly as she moved through the hallway. They shared the house for these past few months.
Lupe moved into the kitchen, the sound of her house shoes took up the space of the room as she moved back and forth in the kitchen. First to the frigerator and next to the sink, then back to the frigerator. Then back to the counter. More and more objects began to come onto the counter. Tomatoes joined peppers, which joined cucumbers which joined large containers of salsas of bright green and red, with their seeds marking their space in the container.
Liza enjoyed hearing the sounds around her, she enjoyed the sounds of the cutting of the board, and the small sounds Lupe would make as she surprised herself with her own skills in the cutting and mixing.
“Oo, eso! This is good!” Liza heard her say, the Spanish perhaps sticking out to her, each word still resonating with its meaning as if sticking out to her from an English-Spanish dictionary.
Lights in the Hand 