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Qué Pasa

May 30, 2013

“I really should’ve packed a lunch.” The woman with the tightly wrapped bun on the top of her head is impatiently attempting to explain to me that the information on my birth certificate doesn’t match my mother’s. She hands me back my mom’s quadruple stamped, handwritten, Salvadoran civil war-era birth certificate, which looks as if it had been lost in Wes Anderson’s prop closet.

April 25, 2013

I remember how exciting it was to wake up on the morning of April 30, put on my white and gray uniform, my red comfy sweater and my rubber-soled shoes, take the bus and arrive at school for a full day of festivities and treats. The teachers would assemble us in the school patio to read a few short poems and perform a puppet show. Then we would go to our classrooms where an array of tasty goodies, prepared by our parents, awaited us. At the end of the day, we were given a bag full of candies, fruits, pencils and stickers, and still it was not over.

March 14, 2013

I had a strange dream last night. In my dream the lights were low … there, stage right, the Chicano devil, wearing a black fedora, pointed black shoes, pock-marked face, oversized styled black pants, bright red shirt, thin black moustache, full-on zoot suit. I hear him whispering in my ear, “Go ahead, stick ’em, it’s OK, go ahead, do it.” I abruptly awoke.