The world in a beautiful white serine blanket of cold, cold snow can be deceiving. Looks pretty darn good looking through a thick window with a fire place keeping you warm.
The quiet solitude opens the mind and stories from the past appear like a ghost in a swirl of snow flakes bouncing, pushing, falling, gone, like lost memories.
Grandma told me a story about her younger cousin, Santiago Romero, whose parents had passed on and he was living with grandma’s grandparents, “he knew the ceremony..” Grandma said.
I could tell in her contemplation she could barely remember him. Grandma spoke, “As a young girl, I worked sometimes for Mr. Sua-sage at the mill in Taos Canyon. A rich couple that Mr. Sua-sage knew from Italy would come and visit him in the summer. My grandpa and grandma became pretty good friends with the Italian couple who would visit different places around northern New Mexico. Grandpa would smoke smelly imported cigarros. They would bring presents for all of us and Grandma and the jolly lady would pass them out to us, jackets and shoes mostly, sometimes food from their home, Italian spices and a twisted cracker you cook called macaroni.
The couple didn’t have any children of their own and they would take us many places. Fishing in the Rio Grande, picking blueberries. Their favorite was Santiago who charmed them with his smile and his eagerness to learn Italian which was a bit like Spanish. Continue reading Snow Flake Memories