There were roses growing in a patch by the screen door, on the pink
steps potted spearmint fixed our stomachs when too much cake and jello
kept us up at night.
Little Rudy's party went on and on and on, even after Rudy fell asleep,
tired from running circles in the brown grass, too excited about anything,
not knowing or caring 'bout turning five.
I guess everything looks so big when you're that small. Huge shoes coming
through the house singing "dejame morir." Uncle Pancho whistled and Tio
Beny wore that dumb-looking straw hat and always put on cowboy boots
when he got drunk, stunk bad in our faces saying "ay que chulo."
Oh yeah, and Manuel could fly. Well, he said he could, only when the
moon was full or more like when his belly was full of cough medicine
and beer. The hot dogs and bread tasted good, but the beans had fat
chunks of onion that made me sneeze. My grandma likes 'em that way,
with a big orange soda on the side, so I made a plate to take to her,
'cause she can't come out no more.
Some of the presents were wrapped in the Sunday funny paper, some wrapped
in the white butcher stuff you get at Carbajal's Dandy Market, but Rudy
won't be opening them today, he's too little and sleepy. I'll bet he'll
be up real early tomorrow, before the pots line up at the corner for soup
and eyes are too red to get out of bed. Everybody got silly and somebody
got very stupid that long day, but the sky forgave and the clouds moved
away, making it all right.
"Happy Birthday to you" the rooster cried.
"Happy Birthday for you" the birds sang up in the palm trees.
"And have a nice life" all the neighbors shouted.
And for miles around, car horns honked and lunch wagons tooted their
goofy songs. Even the church bell rang five times for Rudy, and one more
time for good luck.