Changes with the Sun

Palm trees blow in the heat of the West Texas sun
Houses breathe steadily as the people inside wipe stars and dreams from their eyes
Hues of brilliant gold and lavender rise over the mountains
And in the distance, in our sister city, our hermanos y hermanas rise as we do

My mother wakes us with smells of menudo, tortillas, y pan dulce
The veins on her brown hands pulse like rivers passing over adobe
My father cooks beside her, his own hands much larger and clumsier
He makes her laugh as they kiss to the sound of the sizzling comal

My brother and I enter the kitchen with scrunched faces at our parents’ embrace
When they look away we smile at their love not knowing it would be otherwise
My father serves us menudo, solemnly sprinkling in the inescapability of change and heartache
My mother passes the tortillas with the promise that, at least for now, we will always be this happy

There was peace there. I remember. In those moments. In those mornings. There was peace.

By: Tony Nunez