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“There is nothing more I can teach you, daughter,” he announced. “You<br />
have learned everything I know and can do everything I can do.”<br />
I stared at him. “Oh no, Don Elijio, that’s not true,” I exclaimed. “Every<br />
time I visit you I learn something new, something I feel I never could have<br />
put together on my own.”<br />
He shook his head and continued, “I know it to be so. I’ve listened to<br />
you take care of my patients. You have even become my doctor. Never once<br />
have I felt that I had to correct you or that you gave bad advice. You have a<br />
pure heart. This is your calling in life, just as it is mine.”<br />
“But I still haven’t learned to read the sastun,” I reminded him. “I don’t<br />
think I have the don, the lamp to see what the bubbles mean.”<br />
He reminded me that reading the sastun was not the only tool at my<br />
disposal. “You knew that the woman had envy from what she told you, and<br />
it will always be that way. These things are no great mystery.<br />
“A healer must accept his strengths and weaknesses, Rosita,” he added.<br />
“The most important thing is that the Spirits are <strong>with</strong> you. They see you and<br />
that you are working, and they will look after your needs. Long after I am<br />
gone, they will be here. Have faith, my daughter, for <strong>with</strong> faith everything is<br />
possible.”<br />
I didn’t know whether I couldn’t read the sastun out of fear or because I<br />
simply did not possess the psychic gift. I did know that my true love was<br />
plants and my don was that my hands could see through flesh and tissue. Of<br />
this I had no doubt.<br />
I also had the gift of faith. I had grown to love and feel comfortable<br />
<strong>with</strong> the <strong>Maya</strong> Spirits and felt as if they loved me in return. I sensed their<br />
loneliness and their affection for me. I remembered that Don Elijio had<br />
been concerned that they might not communicate <strong>with</strong> a gringa. But they<br />
had—even speaking English, the language of my dreams.<br />
Perhaps, it was possible that one day I would be able to read the sastun.<br />
“Poco a poco, paso a paso,” he always said.<br />
A village woman came in <strong>with</strong> one of Don Elijio’s many goddaughters,<br />
asking for a belly massage. He climbed to his feet <strong>with</strong> a groan and led her<br />
into the examining room. The child stayed <strong>with</strong> me, and we played the<br />
<strong>Maya</strong> nine-stone game that always reminded me of jacks.<br />
The woman and child left, and from the doorstep of the cement house<br />
Don Elijio called me.<br />
“Come, Rosita,” he signaled.