Memoria de Foto
Title: Memoria de Foto
Fandom: In the Heights
Written: December, 2008
Rating: G
Words: 1800
Summary: In this album there's a picture of Abuela in Havana. She's holding a rag doll, unsmiling, black and white. I wonder what she's thinking. Does she know that she'll be leaving for the city on a cold, dark night?
Notes: I don't speak Spanish, but I had my bi-lingual roommate translate for me. Translations can be found at the end of the story.
------
Her thick black hair had been coaxed back into braided pigtails, swinging as she ran barefoot through the long grass. Colorless ribbons kept the braids in place, trailing behind the girl and fluttering when she came to abrupt halts. She would laugh, her freckle-sprinkled nose turned up to the sky.
Sometimes she would crouch low in the grass, hiding herself from view and biting back giggles when Papa would return home. She would wrap her thin arms around her legs, chin resting on the printed dress that covered her knees, and watch through the blades of brown and green. Her dark eyes would widen as he asked loudly, "¿Ahora, a donde fue mi Claudia hoy?"
Claudia would hug her knees tighter, looking down at her small, dirt-encrusted toes as he started looking for her, squealing with laughter when he grabbed her by the sides and picked her up, swinging her through the humid air. She would spread her arms wide as Papa would shout, "¡Vuele, Claudita, vuele!"
They always walked back to the house hand in hand, Claudia's tiny hand fitting neatly in Papa's large rope-burned palm. His fingers would close around her hand, holding it tightly. Sometimes he would caress the back of her wrist with his thumb.
Papa's voice had faded to the back of little Claudia's mind, never thought of until dinner time, when Mama would put out two chipped plates and she would sit down in the big wooden chair that had once been his. She had to kneel to reach the table, knees rubbing painfully against the hard wood. She wished over and over for her old chair, the little one that now rested by the hearth, but it was never moved back.
She had learned to braid her own hair sitting in the little chair, Mama sitting on the carpet by her feet, long black hair spilling over her shoulders as Claudia ran her fingers through it. She would comb it out one hundred times, counting out loud, and always second-guessing which number came next. Mama taught her how to separate the hair into three sections, moving one over the other to form a long plait.
Claudia braided her own pigtails now, tying her own colorless ribbons at the ends, where her hair would have a slight curl upwards. Sometimes she would wrap the thick locks around her fingers, but she had to be careful not to let Mama catch her. She would yell, "¡Te vas a ensuciar el pelo; déjalo!" and Claudia would obediently let the pigtail drop to swing back to her side.
She took to playing with her doll's hair instead. She would braid the long pieces of yarn, admiring the crimp it left in when she tugged them out hours later. Sometimes Claudia would twist the doll's hair into a fancy knot at the top of her head and parade her around the house, like she was a princess going to her castle. She plucked tiny blue flowers from the fields and made crowns for the doll and herself, admiring her handiwork until Mama had told her to "saca esas tonterías de tu pelo," and start her chores.
Claudia was very good at her chores, as it were. She was in charge of the laundry and the scrubbing, which meant she was always washing something in soapy water. She would scrape the clothes against her washboard and hang them out to dry before retreating back into the house. Inside she would take her thick wire brush and work her way around the house, scrubbing the walls and floor with the suds from her little red bucket. The little red bucked did not have a handle, so Claudia had to lug it around with both hands, clutching it tightly and minding that none of the soapy water would slosh out.
When she finished, Claudia would take her rag doll into one of her reddened hands and run outside, lying in the tall grasses and watching the wind blow the clothes on the line. She thought the shirts looked funny, sleeves waving in the breeze as if there was somebody wearing them. Sometimes she would pretend that the big blue shirt Mama wore to bed was talking to her, telling her fabulous stories of the mystical lands to the north.
Mama sometimes told her about the land to the north, called America. "Un día, Claudita, iremos allá y veras los rascacielos, tú mismo," she would tell her daughter as she tucked the patchwork quilt under Claudia's small chin. Mama would press a kiss to her daughter's forehead before dimming the lamp and retreating to her own bed. Claudia would hear her murmur, "Paciencia y fe," as she left.
Sometimes Claudia would lie awake and try to picture the cities of America for herself. She would imagine herself standing at the top of one of those tall buildings, spreading her arms wide and pretending to fly. She would run through the streets with the other children, playing tag and dressing up her doll with the girls her age. They would press their noses to the glass of the dress shops and toy stores Mama told her about, breath fogging the window so they had to wipe it with their sleeves to see inside.
She would drift off to sleep with these thoughts still swirling in her head. She would dream that she had the wings of an angel and fly over a strange land, looking down on the shiny buildings so small they looked like toys. She would dream that she was wearing a white dress, with her hair combed neatly with a little pink ribbon holding it back as she walked with Mama to a big church, the ones Mama said were in America. Sometimes in her dreams she was running through the fields as she did when she was awake, trying to reach the city glimmering in the distance.
The stars in the night sky would whisper to her in her dreams, and sometimes she would spread her angel wings and try to catch one of them, its gently tinkling voice egging her on. When she awoke, sometimes it was still dark, so Claudia would slip out of the house in her nightdress, rag doll clutched in her hand, and look up to the heavens.
"Dios, por favor, ayuda mama a encontrar trabajo," she would whisper as she bent down on her scabbed knees. She would watch the stars twinkling, as if waiting for something to happen, for some sort of sign that her prayer would be answered. Sometimes she would count the stars in her head, always losing count after thirty.
When Mama awoke, she would send Claudia about her business as usual, watching the young girl scamper about the house as she began her chores. Mama would leave soon after, heading around to the neighbors and the town nearby. She told Claudia that she was going to get a job today, no, today, no… today. Claudia grew tired of these promises and closed her ears when Mama was about to leave.
When Mama returned home and instructed Claudia to pack her clothes into the small bag she had tucked in the corner of her room, she was confused. Mama was holding a small camera in her hands, pointing to the field and telling Claudia to stand there and smile.
"¿Por qué, mama?" she asked as she was steered into the field, rag doll clutched in her red hands. The quizzical look never left her eyes as Mama raised the camera and clicked a button on it. The light that came from the camera made Claudia dizzy, and she rubbed her eyes with sore fingers, trying to make the colored spots disappear.
"No estaba sonriendo, mama," she said, taking tentative steps closer to the older woman and laying a gentle hand on her arm. "¿Por qué sacaste un foto? ¿Y por qué tengo que preparar la maleta?"
"Estamos saliendo para ir a la ciudad, Claudia," Mama said dismissively, as if Claudia should have figured this out for herself. "La ciudad en Estados Unidos, Nueva York."
Suppressing a gasp of delight, Claudia fled inside the house, opening her drawer to look inside at her patterned dresses. Choosing the brightest one - the purple one with lace cuffs - she slipped out of her plain work dress, carefully folding it and placing it at the bottom of her small bag. She buttoned the five black buttons at the top of her purple dress, admiring the way the shone in the sunlight coming through her open window.
Claudia took a great deal of care folding all her dresses and stockings and undergarments, tucking them neatly into her little bag. In America she would have to look her best; she did not think wrinkled frocks gave the best first impressions. The rag doll went on top of the clothes, her small face poking out of the top of Claudia's bag.
"Estoy lista, mama," she said, finding her mother wrapping their chipped plates in one of her own nightdresses. Mama turned, a soft smile fixed on her face.
"Si, Claudia, ya veo," she laid a hand on her daughter's shoulder, smoothing out the wrinkles in the purple sleeve. Reaching with the other hand into a pocket of her apron, she pulled out a small blue ribbon. "Arregla tu cabello antes de irnos, querida," she instructed, giving Claudia this new ribbon.
Squealing with pleasure at the color, Claudia pulled the colorless ribbons from her braids, tying both carefully around her wrist three times. She wished for Mama to find work in Nueva York. She wished for her Papa in Heaven, that he would watch over them as they traveled. Then, thinking very hard, Claudia wished for herself, that she would live out her days in Nueva York and enjoy every minute of it.
------
Translations:
¿Ahora, a donde fue mi Claudia hoy? Now where has my Claudia got to today?
¡Vuele, Claudita, vuele! Fly, little Claudia, fly!
Te vas a ensuciar el pelo; déjalo. You'll get your hair all dirty; drop it.
Saca esas tonterías de tu pelo! Get those silly things out of your hair.
Un día, Claudita, iremos allá y veras los rascacielos, tú mismo. One day, little Claudia, we will go there and you shall see the tall buildings for yourself.
Dios, por favor, ayuda mama a encontrar trabajo. Please, Lord, help Mama find work.
¿Por qué, mama? Why, Mama?
No estaba sonriendo, mama. I was not smiling, Mama.
¿Por qué sacaste un foto? Why did you take a picture?
¿Y por qué tengo que preparar la maleta? And why must I pack?
Estamos saliendo para ir a la ciudad, Claudia. We are leaving for the city, Claudia.
La ciudad en Estados Unidos, Nueva York. The city in America, Nueva York.
Estoy lista, mama. I am ready, Mama.
Si, Claudia, ya veo. Yes, Claudia, I see you are.
Arregla tu cabello antes de irnos, querida. Do fix your hair before we leave, dear.
Fandom: In the Heights
Written: December, 2008
Rating: G
Words: 1800
Summary: In this album there's a picture of Abuela in Havana. She's holding a rag doll, unsmiling, black and white. I wonder what she's thinking. Does she know that she'll be leaving for the city on a cold, dark night?
Notes: I don't speak Spanish, but I had my bi-lingual roommate translate for me. Translations can be found at the end of the story.
------
Her thick black hair had been coaxed back into braided pigtails, swinging as she ran barefoot through the long grass. Colorless ribbons kept the braids in place, trailing behind the girl and fluttering when she came to abrupt halts. She would laugh, her freckle-sprinkled nose turned up to the sky.
Sometimes she would crouch low in the grass, hiding herself from view and biting back giggles when Papa would return home. She would wrap her thin arms around her legs, chin resting on the printed dress that covered her knees, and watch through the blades of brown and green. Her dark eyes would widen as he asked loudly, "¿Ahora, a donde fue mi Claudia hoy?"
Claudia would hug her knees tighter, looking down at her small, dirt-encrusted toes as he started looking for her, squealing with laughter when he grabbed her by the sides and picked her up, swinging her through the humid air. She would spread her arms wide as Papa would shout, "¡Vuele, Claudita, vuele!"
They always walked back to the house hand in hand, Claudia's tiny hand fitting neatly in Papa's large rope-burned palm. His fingers would close around her hand, holding it tightly. Sometimes he would caress the back of her wrist with his thumb.
Papa's voice had faded to the back of little Claudia's mind, never thought of until dinner time, when Mama would put out two chipped plates and she would sit down in the big wooden chair that had once been his. She had to kneel to reach the table, knees rubbing painfully against the hard wood. She wished over and over for her old chair, the little one that now rested by the hearth, but it was never moved back.
She had learned to braid her own hair sitting in the little chair, Mama sitting on the carpet by her feet, long black hair spilling over her shoulders as Claudia ran her fingers through it. She would comb it out one hundred times, counting out loud, and always second-guessing which number came next. Mama taught her how to separate the hair into three sections, moving one over the other to form a long plait.
Claudia braided her own pigtails now, tying her own colorless ribbons at the ends, where her hair would have a slight curl upwards. Sometimes she would wrap the thick locks around her fingers, but she had to be careful not to let Mama catch her. She would yell, "¡Te vas a ensuciar el pelo; déjalo!" and Claudia would obediently let the pigtail drop to swing back to her side.
She took to playing with her doll's hair instead. She would braid the long pieces of yarn, admiring the crimp it left in when she tugged them out hours later. Sometimes Claudia would twist the doll's hair into a fancy knot at the top of her head and parade her around the house, like she was a princess going to her castle. She plucked tiny blue flowers from the fields and made crowns for the doll and herself, admiring her handiwork until Mama had told her to "saca esas tonterías de tu pelo," and start her chores.
Claudia was very good at her chores, as it were. She was in charge of the laundry and the scrubbing, which meant she was always washing something in soapy water. She would scrape the clothes against her washboard and hang them out to dry before retreating back into the house. Inside she would take her thick wire brush and work her way around the house, scrubbing the walls and floor with the suds from her little red bucket. The little red bucked did not have a handle, so Claudia had to lug it around with both hands, clutching it tightly and minding that none of the soapy water would slosh out.
When she finished, Claudia would take her rag doll into one of her reddened hands and run outside, lying in the tall grasses and watching the wind blow the clothes on the line. She thought the shirts looked funny, sleeves waving in the breeze as if there was somebody wearing them. Sometimes she would pretend that the big blue shirt Mama wore to bed was talking to her, telling her fabulous stories of the mystical lands to the north.
Mama sometimes told her about the land to the north, called America. "Un día, Claudita, iremos allá y veras los rascacielos, tú mismo," she would tell her daughter as she tucked the patchwork quilt under Claudia's small chin. Mama would press a kiss to her daughter's forehead before dimming the lamp and retreating to her own bed. Claudia would hear her murmur, "Paciencia y fe," as she left.
Sometimes Claudia would lie awake and try to picture the cities of America for herself. She would imagine herself standing at the top of one of those tall buildings, spreading her arms wide and pretending to fly. She would run through the streets with the other children, playing tag and dressing up her doll with the girls her age. They would press their noses to the glass of the dress shops and toy stores Mama told her about, breath fogging the window so they had to wipe it with their sleeves to see inside.
She would drift off to sleep with these thoughts still swirling in her head. She would dream that she had the wings of an angel and fly over a strange land, looking down on the shiny buildings so small they looked like toys. She would dream that she was wearing a white dress, with her hair combed neatly with a little pink ribbon holding it back as she walked with Mama to a big church, the ones Mama said were in America. Sometimes in her dreams she was running through the fields as she did when she was awake, trying to reach the city glimmering in the distance.
The stars in the night sky would whisper to her in her dreams, and sometimes she would spread her angel wings and try to catch one of them, its gently tinkling voice egging her on. When she awoke, sometimes it was still dark, so Claudia would slip out of the house in her nightdress, rag doll clutched in her hand, and look up to the heavens.
"Dios, por favor, ayuda mama a encontrar trabajo," she would whisper as she bent down on her scabbed knees. She would watch the stars twinkling, as if waiting for something to happen, for some sort of sign that her prayer would be answered. Sometimes she would count the stars in her head, always losing count after thirty.
When Mama awoke, she would send Claudia about her business as usual, watching the young girl scamper about the house as she began her chores. Mama would leave soon after, heading around to the neighbors and the town nearby. She told Claudia that she was going to get a job today, no, today, no… today. Claudia grew tired of these promises and closed her ears when Mama was about to leave.
When Mama returned home and instructed Claudia to pack her clothes into the small bag she had tucked in the corner of her room, she was confused. Mama was holding a small camera in her hands, pointing to the field and telling Claudia to stand there and smile.
"¿Por qué, mama?" she asked as she was steered into the field, rag doll clutched in her red hands. The quizzical look never left her eyes as Mama raised the camera and clicked a button on it. The light that came from the camera made Claudia dizzy, and she rubbed her eyes with sore fingers, trying to make the colored spots disappear.
"No estaba sonriendo, mama," she said, taking tentative steps closer to the older woman and laying a gentle hand on her arm. "¿Por qué sacaste un foto? ¿Y por qué tengo que preparar la maleta?"
"Estamos saliendo para ir a la ciudad, Claudia," Mama said dismissively, as if Claudia should have figured this out for herself. "La ciudad en Estados Unidos, Nueva York."
Suppressing a gasp of delight, Claudia fled inside the house, opening her drawer to look inside at her patterned dresses. Choosing the brightest one - the purple one with lace cuffs - she slipped out of her plain work dress, carefully folding it and placing it at the bottom of her small bag. She buttoned the five black buttons at the top of her purple dress, admiring the way the shone in the sunlight coming through her open window.
Claudia took a great deal of care folding all her dresses and stockings and undergarments, tucking them neatly into her little bag. In America she would have to look her best; she did not think wrinkled frocks gave the best first impressions. The rag doll went on top of the clothes, her small face poking out of the top of Claudia's bag.
"Estoy lista, mama," she said, finding her mother wrapping their chipped plates in one of her own nightdresses. Mama turned, a soft smile fixed on her face.
"Si, Claudia, ya veo," she laid a hand on her daughter's shoulder, smoothing out the wrinkles in the purple sleeve. Reaching with the other hand into a pocket of her apron, she pulled out a small blue ribbon. "Arregla tu cabello antes de irnos, querida," she instructed, giving Claudia this new ribbon.
Squealing with pleasure at the color, Claudia pulled the colorless ribbons from her braids, tying both carefully around her wrist three times. She wished for Mama to find work in Nueva York. She wished for her Papa in Heaven, that he would watch over them as they traveled. Then, thinking very hard, Claudia wished for herself, that she would live out her days in Nueva York and enjoy every minute of it.
------
Translations:
¿Ahora, a donde fue mi Claudia hoy? Now where has my Claudia got to today?
¡Vuele, Claudita, vuele! Fly, little Claudia, fly!
Te vas a ensuciar el pelo; déjalo. You'll get your hair all dirty; drop it.
Saca esas tonterías de tu pelo! Get those silly things out of your hair.
Un día, Claudita, iremos allá y veras los rascacielos, tú mismo. One day, little Claudia, we will go there and you shall see the tall buildings for yourself.
Dios, por favor, ayuda mama a encontrar trabajo. Please, Lord, help Mama find work.
¿Por qué, mama? Why, Mama?
No estaba sonriendo, mama. I was not smiling, Mama.
¿Por qué sacaste un foto? Why did you take a picture?
¿Y por qué tengo que preparar la maleta? And why must I pack?
Estamos saliendo para ir a la ciudad, Claudia. We are leaving for the city, Claudia.
La ciudad en Estados Unidos, Nueva York. The city in America, Nueva York.
Estoy lista, mama. I am ready, Mama.
Si, Claudia, ya veo. Yes, Claudia, I see you are.
Arregla tu cabello antes de irnos, querida. Do fix your hair before we leave, dear.