by Reyna Mu\u00f1oz<\/p>\n
My father\u2019s hands used to shine<\/p>\n
the shoes of grown men<\/p>\n
who lived in Juarez<\/p>\n
but worked in El Paso.<\/p>\n
They would sell limones<\/p>\n
on the puente libre<\/p>\n
in the scorching sun<\/p>\n
all the while wondering<\/p>\n
what was in el otro lado.<\/p>\n
His hands would play<\/p>\n
canicas en la calle Cholula<\/p>\n
outside of my abuelitas house<\/p>\n
the only one a cotton<\/p>\n
candy pink and,<\/p>\n
if they were lucky,<\/p>\n
had enough spare change<\/p>\n
to watch a gringo movie<\/p>\n
(doblada, of course)<\/p>\n
or buy a milkshake<\/p>\n
and play \u201cLove me Do\u201d<\/p>\n
on the jukebox<\/p>\n
on weekends.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Later<\/p>\n
my father\u2019s hands would pick<\/p>\n
grapes in Delano then they\u2019d bus<\/p>\n
tables in Long Beach, his hands<\/p>\n
placed dollars on the counter<\/p>\n
after ordering a cheeseburger and coke<\/p>\n
every night after work,<\/p>\n
his favorite gringo food.<\/p>\n
In the winter<\/p>\n
my father\u2019s hands worked<\/p>\n
in East Los Angeles<\/p>\n
night after night<\/p>\n
making crowns<\/p>\n
molding dentures<\/p>\n
the man behind the dentist<\/p>\n
hunched over<\/p>\n
a motor\u2019s buzz and whirr<\/p>\n
a small lamp illuminating his hands<\/p>\n
that look as though they are a part<\/p>\n
of the machinery<\/p>\n
in the dark, cold room<\/p>\n
on Beverly boulevard.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My mam\u00e1 says<\/p>\n
one of the first things<\/p>\n
that made her fall in love with my dad<\/p>\n
were his hands.<\/p>\n
Las ten\u00eda bien licitas<\/p>\n
bien finas.<\/p>\n
A m\u00ed me daba verg\u00fcenza que me tocara<\/p>\n
mis manos, she tells me,<\/p>\n
her own hands hardened<\/p>\n
from a different kind of work.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
And now<\/p>\n
those weathered hands<\/p>\n
that sacrificed for over 65 years<\/p>\n
for my mam\u00e1 and us six<\/p>\n
kids, those hands<\/p>\n
are busy planting<\/p>\n
a tree in El Paso in March,<\/p>\n
both are facing south<\/p>\n
toward the border.<\/p>\n
He looks up as the gusty winds<\/p>\n
make it sway from side to side<\/p>\n
almost as if unsure of where to go.<\/p>\n
He isn\u2019t worried,<\/p>\n
he tells me,<\/p>\n
he made sure the roots were firmly planted.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A first-generation college graduate, Reyna obtained her BA in English and her MA in Literature at New Mexico State University. Currently she is Associate Professor at El Paso Community College where she teaches Developmental English, Rhetoric and Composition, Research Writing and Literary Analysis, and Chicanx Literature courses. Reyna also holds board positions for the Association of Women in the Community College, and BorderSenses, a literary non-profit, and has previously served on the Las Americas Immigrant Advocacy Center board. In her spare time, she co-hosts the Literally Literary podcast. She is a proud daughter of immigrants.<\/span><\/p>\n
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