For her

by Paulina Guerrero Zaragoza (Mexico)

I didn't expect to find Mexico

Peace lay over the surface of the lake, as big as the ocean, as green as the trees staining the mountains around it. The light in my mother's eyes and the sheen in them for having something she never dare to asked for. In April after four long years, I graduated from college. “You instilled in me that studying was my responsibility,” I told my mother on a cold afternoon. “I don't see why we need to celebrate something that was always in my plans.” "Nonsense" She said, “We will go on a trip. You deserve it." And so weeks later we drove along the highway until we reached Valle de Bravo. The first thing we noticed were the colors. Never before have we seen so many shades of green in one place: the sky and the heavy clouds in it, the mountains, the lake, even the sun's rays reflected an emerald hue over the town. "Look at the lake!" My mom squealed. We drive downhill through narrow cobbled streets. Houses with tile roofs, some older and neglected than others, evidence of the long history of the community, it gave us the feeling of wandering on ancient land. Like a foreign stranger staining the ghost of the past. On the sidewalks, women dressed in blanket skirts, holding rusty buckets full of nuts in one hand, at their feet, a small child delicately pecking his own foot with a stick. Mothers, working from sunrise to sunset to make sure to keep their family bellies full. I looked at her hands, rough and swollen, just like my mother's. Further down, in the central garden, like a colossus rising from the small shops and street vendors, the pink quarry cathedral, with its huge chocolate wooden gate guarded by two large neoclassical columns. The picturesque town gradually opened its way to renowned coffee shops, spas and cycling shops. We're passing by Avándaro. Full of ostentatious and private houses that make evident the fusion between wealth and poverty, creating a small panorama of what it is class inequality in Mexico. "Someday. You'll see,” my mom said with a hopeful sigh. "Someday?" I turned to her, her gaze anchored on the streets. "Yes, someday you will live in a place like this." I smiled affectionately. I couldn't find the courage to deny it. Finally, the lake emerged from a distance, covering the entire horizon; mountains full of leafy trees served as perimeter. I sensed an almost childish excitement radiating by my side. We arrived at the dock: yachts and small boats sailed freely over the expanse of the lake. With little money in our pockets, we knew we couldn't afford to rent one of them, so we decided to get on a big white boat that run as a restaurant, subtly balancing with the flow. Upon entering, the first thing that caught my eye was the heavy silver candlestick hanging at the very center of the reception. On the walls petite carved angels welcoming us. We sat at a table in the bow with the lake by our side. The sun was slowly descending down the mountains, the sky was flooded with orange and pink, the water shone as if there were spotlights underneath. I gazed at my mother who smiled as I never saw her do it before. Her tired eyes fixed on the water, and I realized that in fifty years, this was the first time she boarded a boat, maybe even the first time she witnessed the sunset freely. Suddenly having taken every penny to make this trip no longer worried me. All the hard work was worth it. Not for me, but for her.