Ancestral and Cultural Appreciation Theme Analysis

“Don’t you see? There’s a reason we found him instead of the border patrol. He came looking for us because he knew we could help him. It’s not a coincidence that he’s from the same place as Papá.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “You’re not making any sense.”

Juanita continued passionately. “Don’t you get it? We were meant to find him, so we could go see our abuelita in Mexico again. It was fate that brought him to us.”

“You were chosen for the goodness in your heart,” she explained. […] “Your sister was right when she said finding the body of the drowned man was not an accident.”

She took my hand once again, her touch still deathly cold. Standing beside the hackberry shrubs with hundreds of empty desiccated cocoons still clinging to their branches and a carpet of butterfly corpses under her feet, La Llorona did not look anything like a malevolent specter. She looked more like a tired, heavily burdened woman.

“This is about all of you: your sisters, your parents, even your abuela,” La Llorona continued. “You must travel to the other side, into the land of your ancestors, to find each other again.”

There were so many of them joining in the dance that soon they moved as one. Their bodies became a collective, a tapestry of wing and wind that fluttered with life, transforming into the figure of a young woman with dark hair and dark eyes. She was dressed in a shimmering tunic of gold and green jade. She looked like an Aztec goddess, but her face was that of a Mexican girl, the face of our many friends and cousins, a teenager, like us.

It felt weird, preparing for what might happen to us in the night. I felt like we were in a different world, a magical realm, where everything was larger than life. Did I think we could really kill the mythical chupacabras? Normally, I would have said not on your life, especially since we weren’t even sure if he was a vampire. […] Besides, there was something about being in those ruins in the Mexican countryside that made anything possible, because that night I believed in us—cinco hermanitas, five little sisters, together forever. No matter what.

“Odilia is right. We’re the Garza girls, cinco hermanitas, five little sisters under the protection of the goddess,” she said, holding the stake in front of her with both hands and anchoring the sharp point of it on the ground.

“That’s right,” I said. I looked down at Pita, who was clutching her ankle, wincing. “Remember what I told you? La Llorona said we must remain noble and kind. We should grant mercy when it is asked of us.”

“Your father is like the sun, splendid to behold, but he must descend and let darkness rule for a time.”

I don’t get it,” Pita said.

The virgen stepped down from her throne and touched Pita’s face. “Without night there would be no rest, no room for growth. It is just the way things are,” Tonantzin explained in a serene voice.

[…]

“I know you don’t understand what is happening with your family,” Tonantzin said gently. “But you will, when the time comes. A new dawn is approaching, but you are very clever, very brave. You will not be blinded by his light.”

“Tenochtitlan,” Abuelita said, looking in wonder at the great city looming over the swampy lake. “The Aztecs decided to build it here, on the lake, when they saw the sign—an eagle sitting on a cactus, eating a snake. It was the center of a great empire, the home of our ancestors.”

I watched Ixtali row and row, taking us away from the city. “Why are we so far from home?” I asked.

“This is the goddess’s gift to you,” she said. “A vision, to always remember who you are, where you came from, as you develop a better future.”

“You have done well, my daughter. Your migration through the voyage of pain and sorrow has been hard, but you are at the end of your journey. The Ancients have waited a long time for you to emerge, to spread your wings, to take flight. And now, they are ready for you to come home.”

“Only the sun is the alone in the sky,” the Virgen’s voice answered me from beyond the shadows of night. I couldn’t see anything, but I could feel her presence all around me. “I am with you every day. I am the moon, the stars, the sky. I am the river. I am the morning sigh. Remember mi Mariposa pequeña. You are one of many. You are one of us.”

At her words, a swarm of butterflies fluttered out of the hackberry shrubs and flitted around me, dusting me with delight.