Metrosphere 2004-2005
Chrysanthemums of White
It is important to know that, when in an uncomfortable position, our brains develop survival mechanisms.
I am lying here puzzled. Today is the second day in this town. Midland, Texas, the crotch part of the United States. This is not an exaggeration. I demand that if you are ever possessed to come here you drive in any direction--north, south, east, west--and you will be across town in fi fteen minutes. It is constantly hot. Humid. Dry. There are horny toads leaping in the fi elds that surround our house. This comes a bit strange to me. Yesterday, Paco chased a tarantula all the way to its hole, where fi fty spiders must have erupted.
Today was my fi rst day of fi fth grade. My academic standing is farther than most of the kids in my class. But I don’t quite have my multiplication tables memorized. This is disconcerting. When I was on the playground during recess a black girl named Trelita, “Tree” for short, came up to me and asked me what am I? I wanted to say a human, a girl perhaps, but before I could she asked me if I was Mexican or white. My eyebrows bent in confusion. I replied both. She advised me to claim that I was Mexican if anyone asked. I said nothing about being more Filipino than either of the two choices I was given. So I just nodded and wondered why.
I started to notice the lack of white people in this town or at least the two sides of it I have seen. I live on the west side of Midland. From Henderson elementary we are bussed to the east side. And from DeZavala elementary east side kids, predominantly black and Mexican, are bussed to Henderson. I think it is because their families have less money. But that is just an educated guess. A hypothesis, Mrs. Greer would say.
Chrysanthemums of white
Delay the penetration of light
In hesitation of
Being noticed from the rest of the field
When I got home, I fi nished Go Ask Alice. I only had one chapter left. I wanted to fi nish it last night but Dad said to turn off my light. I loved it! Absolutely loved it! I’m so happy that cousin Mary let me borrow it. She said when I’m fi nished with it, to send it back and she’ll let me borrow her favorite book called kissing something…Kissing Door Knobs. Then I ate a snack and gave directions to my grandmother and grandfather on how to get to Wal-Mart (they’re from Colorado). Loop 250, exit Rosa Boulevard, turn left at the light. I asked them to pick up some rice pilaf and Greek olives so I could show them how to make my favorite dish, falafel. They said they would try.
“How do you turn this thing on, Mija,” my grandmother asked me, aiming the remote control at the TV in a clumsy fashion, reminding me of someone mishandling a gun.
“I don’t know; I’ll go back up and ask Dad.”