- Araceli Esparza: "Las Chicas y Chicos de Blossom Street"
by Araceli Esparza.
Door propped open with tree sticks,
hanging out on Blossom Street with one-step stoops.
Welcome to my street.
I'm Luz.
Luz Maria, if you're formal.
Our days are filled with family news,
pretending and playing, and tiny jumps.
The day goes by
and we dash from one playtime to the next.
Chicas y chicos are girl kids and boy kids,
and everyone in between.
This is us.
[harp music] We are like little picture moments at sunset.
I live with my grandma, mi little sister Ana,
a blind duck, and my tío. - Hay!
- I like to hydro garden and I'm big on organic compost.
They call me "mija." [warm laugh]
Izzy, my best friend,
is learning to do perfect cartwheels.
And like the sunshine, she almost pokes my eye.
Purple carrots, spring morning air,
and washing leaves in my sister Ana's little hands,
there's something new and old.
She's a fourth-generation piscadora, [cow moos]
now urbana.
Next door,
stuck in their room with Wi-Fi,
clicking a keyboard,
and swishing a finger pad.
Junior doesn't fix mofles; he fixes code,
night until day.
Upstairs lives the twins,
Paco y Pedro.
Free time is dress-up time,
and that's when Pedro wears pink.
He banana smiles and drinks atole.
Paco prefers green tacos and ham!
When she wants to be like every boy neighbor,
Ana plays the ultimate games,
and double dares us to race.
She wins most of the time. [cheering]
[opening doors] With his empty cupboards, half-filled plate,
[knocking on door] our neighbor, Luis,
comes over for grandma's tacos de jamón y pan.
But on Sundays, he puts ketchup on his tamale!
[duck quacks]
[camera shutter snaps]
[harp music]
Best dressed
with shiny white shoes and tapping toes,
Beta has two papis who swing her over puddles
and carry her to pick the blooming lilacs
across the street. [bell chimes]
Con los vecinos, our neighbors.
We learn to ride our bikes in the parking lot.
Together, we have a cookout and be like family.
None of us are related.
Still, we talk, argue, and laugh like familia.
"Okay, let's race," Beta says.
And her dress flutters against the wind.
Ana with holey-toed shoes
makes up for time jumping over onion beds
while Mago speeds up and stops short at the corner.
Her arms are ready for the Olympics.
No one told her she couldn't walk.
They told her she could fly.
[turning page]
My friend Izzy gets stuck on Saturday morning meetings
at the local centro comunitario.
A "stand up for your rights mami"
equals tag-along girl kid. [door opens]
When she comes home, Izzy skips upstairs,
finds her friends to compare drawings on tablets.
[happy laughter]
The twins' place is always busy with parties.
Viernes de quinceañeras, Sabados de cumpleanos,
y Domingos de Virgincita.
Paco y Pedro wonder
when all the cheek pinching will ever end.
Four cheeks aren't enough.
In the next building over,
Juan, his three brothers, and one sister
sleep tight as pea pods
in one room they call theirs.
In their dreams, they can be anyone.
He asks me, "When will the beans come up?"
Soon.
Very soon, I show him.
[plant expanding]
Through the city's dusty roads,
fresh air smells break through
against the orange sunset.
I step off my tío's truca, and I am home. [chickens cluck]
I smile at my garden.
For me, all of them are my friends.
We have aventuras, vidas, y laughter.
Somos son de Blossom Street.
We are from Blossom Street.
[festive Latinx music]