BMU: Response on Chapter 3

It is the night of Lupito's murder. Antonio dreams himself a priest. Lupito's spirit calls to him from the river and la llorona seeks his soul. Then he awakes. It is Sunday. Antonio hears the voices of his parents arguing like always. His father gets off work early on Saturdays, so he drinks with his friends that night, waking up in the morning cranky. He explains how his mother and father are opposites. They fight on Sundays about religion. His father is not a very religious man. His mother on the other hand is a devout Catholic and would like for Antonio to become a priest. In the end his mother wins and everyone goes to church anyway. When they get to church, Antonio meets up with some of the others that he knows from town. They are typical boys, very competitive. They race each other and compare their neighborhoods.

As I sit here gliding my fingers across the keys, I picture Antonio's parents as my own. My mother the calm, worried, devout Catholic. My father the free minded, outspoken, agnostic. I remember my mother sending us to Sunday school and forcing us to get up on Sundays for mass. My father often resisting, and often winning the battles. He would stay home while my mother, brother, and I went to church. She made a deal with my brother and I. She said if we were confirmed as Catholics, we would not have to attend church anymore. This part of the chapter made me laugh inside. Now things are very different in my house. We no longer attend church every Sunday, because my brother and I completed the deal and no longer attend Mass, so my mother only goes every once in awhile. Our whole family only goes twice a year, for Christmas and Easter.

I pause here because the heat is distracting me. I feel the warm air creeping over my entire body. The window is open, but it is useless. Through it I hear the roar of cars rushing by. The cool breeze blowing, but not flowing inside. My son lays on my lap dreaming, his body sending more heat to mine. My legs slowly drip with sweat. I take a sip of water and feel the cold ice against my lips. It cools me down for just a second, but then my body burns once again from the hot air.

But I digress. The part of the chapter where the boys are playing brought a smile to my face. It reminded me of the times I would play with the neighborhood boys. I was a tomboy, so most of the kids I played with were boys. They were very competitive, I was as well, like the boys in the story. I remember racing everyone, trying to prove I was the fastest and the best.

Another feeling this part brought up for me is a little bit of anger. One of the boys makes a comment about the kids in a certain neighborhood. He labels everyone from Los Jaros, saying "everyone from Los Jaros goes to hell" (Anaya, 37). I grew up in a neighborhood that was rough and full of violence. Many people make generalization about it and the people that live there. It angers me because they have no real idea of what it is like or how the people really are like. Granted there is violence and criminal activity, but that only makes up a few of the people living there. For the most part, everyone is hardworking. Trying to make a living for their families. They are kids trying to stay out of trouble and make it through school, but trouble follows easily.

One last thing that stuck out to me in this chapter is the vision of La llorona. When I was younger, my cousins, my brother, and I saw her. Or at least we believe we did. It was evening. The sun was just falling behind the mountains. We were all strolling alongside the acequia, laughing and playing. The cool September breeze, whistling past us. All of a sudden we heard a soft cry in the distance. Then a white figure came rushing towards us, floating over the muddy water. Startled and scared, we ran to the nearest adult. When we reached her, the figure dropped into the water and disappeared. It was such a rush.