Untitled - CSUN ScholarWorks - California State University, Northridge

Leaving the old man to reminisce about the old days
in the valley of the giant, the Columbian woman and I walk
to the river. The cool water is refreshing to our tired and
dirty flesh and my feet return back to their normal size. The
water rushing under my armpits and between my legs
echoes the peaceful silence of the valley. The old man has
come from the house and we all sit on the bank of the river
drinking coffee. Whatever poisons I had brought with me in
my body have now been purged. Across the river is a small
field of wild daisies and I challenge the Columbian woman
to a swimming race across the river. Naturally she wins and
waits patiently until my reckless slapping and kicking
brings me to her.
As we sit amidst the daisies drying, it occurs to me, as
I watch her hair form ruffles across her shoulders, to ask
her name. Her name, Maria Magdelena Montoya Madera,
falls delicately upon the daisies. Her body reflects the
yellow and white of the petals and it unfolds to the length
of her name. There is no hint of sparseness in Maria
Magdelena Montoya Madera or her body.
We stay buried in the wildflowers while the sun
follows its wide arc across the valley several times. Finally,
returning to the other side of the river to the old man, I find
waiting for me a postcard from Jane. I place it in a box
made from the bark of a mango tree which is big enough to
hold all the postcards I will receive from her over the next
few months and when the box is full the postcards will
stop.
Maria Magdelena Montoya Madera never went back
to the coffee factory and she no longer has to grind her
dancing into the beans. Everyday we spend long hours
dancing on the bank of the river while the old man plays
the guitar. This is how we live now, me, the old man, and
Maria Magdelena Montoya Madera, dancing, eating
mangoes and drinking coffee."'
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