San
Juan de los Lagos, Jalisco, Mexico
April 13, 1993
That morning, I woke up feeling like a caterpillar. I dressed
in my navy blue skirt uniform, a white shirt, white stockings,
a blue sweeter and I put on my black shoes. On my way out,
I grabbed the Bible from grandma’ shelf. After Saturday
Catechism,
it was a sunny and cloudless afternoon. As I marched
down the stone streets of San Juan de los Lagos, a drop
of blood exited down my body. I ran across the
patio into abuelita’s house, and the bible slipped
out of my hands.
My body was leaking like a broken pot.
Soon a river emerged going down stream.
The smell of my river was rusty and sticky.
My careless sweat could no longer be ignored. My
Stomach was twisting, and aching. The next morning,
my mom changed the sheets, they were stained red as silk,
and
my body leaked for eight days. I drank one hundred
cups of chamomile tea. Do not eat avocados,
oranges, and lemons, my mother said because your stomach
could swell and hurt. Every day, I deposited five
napkins in the bathroom container. In those eight long days,
I mastered the use of the feminine napkin. In those
eight days, I shed the skin that turned me into a butterfly.
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