Changes with the Sun

Photo by  MD Minor

Photo by MD Minor

By Anthony Orion Nuñez

Palm trees blow in the heat of the West Texas sun

Houses breathe steadily as the people inside wipe stars and dreams from their eyes

Hues of brilliant gold and lavender rise over the mountains

And in the distance, in our sister city, our hermanos y hermanas rise as we do

My mother wakes us with smells of menudo, tortillas, y pan dulce

The veins on her brown hands pulse like rivers passing over adobe

My father cooks beside her, his own hands much larger and clumsier

He makes her laugh as they kiss to the sound of the sizzling comal

My brother and I enter the kitchen with scrunched faces at our parents’ embrace

When they look away we smile at their love not knowing it would be otherwise

My father serves us menudo, solemnly sprinkling in the inescapability of change and heartache

My mother passes the tortillas with the promise that, at least for now, we will always be this happy

There was peace there. I remember. In those moments. In those mornings. There was peace.

Anthony Orion Nunez is a poet and short story writer from El Paso, Texas. He is a senior at the University of Texas majoring in social work with a creative writing certificate.