The Crossing II

My parents were in the hotel room with us when I woke up. My mother was asleep in one of the beds, with a red bandana on her head. My father lay next to her—they were both covered in dust and strands of yellow grass. My sister was in my mothers arms. I don't remember were she came from. Anyways, I was happy they weren’t dead.

We were rounded up at about noon and packed into a truck headed for Anaheim. No one said a word. I remember the silence and the fear. After a while, my mom started a conversation with another lady about the weather. I think it was hot in the back, so the conversation was natural. Then the woman said that they had almost gotten caught the night before, but, that as luck would have it, the migra’s truck had overheated and they were able to run for it till they found a hiding place. My mom told her that they had crawled through a tunnel to get across; that she was on her knees for about 4 hours; that the smell of dead bodies had made her throw up; that the dead body was a woman’s. She told me that story many years later, and I recalled the trip to Anaheim when she did.

My father slept next to me with his hat half-covering his face, as he does. It had the word “KING” sewed on it in the shape of a crown (now it sounds like I’m making this image up to reference some sort of unconscious projection on my part, but everyone I knew had a hat that said KING on it. I learned later it was an agriculture supply store in King City, CA. where my father, and everyone he knew, bought their work boots…and their hats). The truck stopped a couple of hours later--or was it days? My father paid the driver and we got to Anaheim. We went into a McDonalds with our bags and my father bought us food. It was the first time I had seen them eat in two days. I fell in love with McDonalds that day. It was the greatest, best smelling, and most delicious place on earth. We had arrived.