In January 23 of 2013, I wrote a story called My Summer Vacation. On February 6 of that same year, I wrote a follow-up called Son and Fun In El Salvador. Both were written from different viewpoints. Now, I reveal the third and final installment. In order that the narratives make sense, as part of my introduction, I give you the first two parts.
First, Part One:
My Summer Vacation
Mom and Dad came to the wedding — an overseas trip to an open-air house of cement bricks, tiles and a toilet that flushes with a bucket of water.
Sure, Dad could have chided me about leaving a good-paying job, never coming back from vacation from what he called, “a sweat-box with palm trees.” I didn’t tell them what kind of work I have. I don’t have any work. I told Mom and Dad all they REALLY needed to know:
Love happens fast in Central America — just not the part where it happened nine months ahead of schedule!
Second, Part Two:
My Summer Vacation: Son and Fun In El Salvador
Naomi and I had our seats near a crying baby on the four-hour long flight to El Salvador. I felt like crying, too. Our Kevin, down there getting married to … what was her name? Rosita?
“He quit!!! That idiot left the best money he ever made …”
Naomi interrupted my rant while wrestling with her pillow. “If I remember right, Carl, YOU were just as crazy about me as he is with Rosita.” She paused. “You don’t suppose …?”
“What? He knocked her up?”
“Let’s say he did. What will YOU say?”
I thought, then sighed. “Welcome to the club, Kevin.”
So, now, this week’s photo prompt courtesy of Sandra Crook. Wonderful photo, Sandra. Reminds me of Central America where this is common.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields leads the FF Troop into the frontier. Vamonos!
And now, the conclusion of:
My Summer Vacation: Rosita.
Walking down the aisle on my wedding day with morning sickness wasn’t the worst of my fears. It was meeting Naomi, mother of my handsome American gringo-boy, Kevin.
Words came to my mind seeing her sitting in the sanctuary — words not allowed at La Iglesia de Guadalupe de San Salvador. Words calling me a “prostitute” or “opportunist.”
Then the surprise came. During the reception, Kevin’s mother approached me, took my face in her hands and kissed it. She looked at me beaming and spoke to me with a sweet and comforting Castillian accent!
“Mi hija, bienvenida a nuestra familia.”