1955—Mother sacrifice

1955—Mother sacrifice


The kitchen door opened and 13-year-old Máximo (Brother Number 9) appeared. Gasping, he said, “Amá.” Maria was standing behind a mountain of dirty dishes. “Si mi’jo.” Máximo threw his schoolbooks on the table. “Can I go to the movies? El Cucuchi is going to give me fifty centavos and the other Cucuchi will give me another fifty centavos so I can go with them. Can I go to the movies?” “No, mi’jo. Today is not Sunday. Get a broom and sweep the front porch before your father finds out that you came home and did nothing.” Having heard that, Máximo quickly disappeared.

…. However, Roberto saw what happened and he came to me angrily and threw me out of the line. I went flying with long steps to avoid falling. “What’s the matter with you?” he scolded me. “Are you gonna let that boy push you out? Are you afraid of him?” My face turned red and it felt burning. I clenched my teeth, tightened my fists, and I lunged at the boy. Elizar saw me coming with the fury in my eyes, and he froze. In two seconds, I was over him throwing punches at his face. He pulled back, and I followed him with a volley of uncontrolled quick jabs, crosscuts, hooks, and uppercuts. Blinded and possessed with anger, I let out so many punches that I slipped on the loose dirt and went face down to the ground. I spat out dirt and blood. This got me angrier. I got up throwing another uncontrolled barrage of punches all over his body. The poor, startled kid just kept retreating….



1955—First grade

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