RETURNING CHAPTER 7Â
By PATRICK CABELLO HANSEL
“It”™s always darkest before the dawn.” That may be true, but it is of little solace to those who have no idea how far away the dawn is from coming, or even where to look for it.
Angel and Luz knew this: their beloved little daughter was missing; she was with some stranger, and all they had to go on was this cryptic note that had been taped to the door of the day care:
Don”™t worry.
We have your light blessing.
You will know where she is.
Luz”™ first words were, “Don”™t worry? Are you out of your mind?”
Angel”™s first words were: “You will know where she is? What kind of cruel joke is that?”
But it was little Angelito”™s first words that made for the turning toward the dawn:
“Papito, mamita, what is a light blessing?”
Luz and Angel looked at their first born with wonder. For the parents, everything had focused down to this one horrible fact: little Lupita was missing. If you had asked them what they had done ten minutes earlier, or what they would do ten minutes hence, they could not have told you. They couldn”™t remember if they had read the note out loud and Angelito had heard them. Or had their son, at age 4 ½, suddenly learned how to read?
Angel squatted down next to his son, and looked him in the eye. He did not see the terror he had just seen in his wife”™s eyes, rather he saw something peaceful, searching, akin to wonder.
“Did you ask us what a light blessing is?” Angel asked his son.
“Yes, papi. Is it like the blessing you give to me and Lupe every night before we go to sleep, where you touch our heads and say ”˜Dios te bendiga”™?”
Angel hugged Angelito so hard, he cried out in a hushed voice:
“Papi, I can”™t breathe!”
Angel, let go of his son with his arms, but not with his heart. For the first time he felt a bit of hope. He looked straight at his son, and said:
“I think so, hijito. I think the note is saying that little Lupita is a blessing to us, and she”™s OK.”
“So why don”™t we go find her?” Angelito asked, loudly.
Angel stood up, looked at his wife, and both of them started to laugh. Angelito looked at them like they were crazy, but started to laugh as well.
“Where do we start?” Angel asked Luz.
Luz looked up at the sky, then down at the snow on the ground. She hesitated to look east””that was where the menacing van with the voice passed. But she looked. The cemetery was dark, but peaceful, and a light snow started to fall. She turned to Angel and asked him:
“Remember how we met?”
“How could I forget, mi amor?!” Angel said. “It was at your tio”™s bakery, when you smiled at me.”
“And gave you something to eat, remember?” Luz said. “I think we need to start our journey there.”
“But it”™s not there anymore!” Angel said. “It”™s just that phone store now. No more bakery.”
“No more bakery in the present,” Luz said. “But we know there was in the past, and may be in the future.”
At this little Angelito said: “Forever and ever. Amen!”
And so our little family, buoyed up not by certainty but by hope, set off west down Lake Street toward a bakery that had been and that might be again.
To be continued”¦
