Posted by Elena del Valle on June 30, 2010
By Hilda Luisa Díaz-Perera
Hilda Luisa Díaz-Perera*
I knew it was the 4th. Yesterday had been the 3rd, so I was positive today was the 4th. I thought about the American Embassy in Caracas and regretted I had not yet registered there. They were probably hosting a celebration for American citizens living in the capital. I couldn’t explain why today my vocal chords had locked themselves on the words of Home on the Range quietly singing them away in my throat. The day had started out very early as it usually did for me: I had brought the dog down to the yard where he began to bark back at another invisible barking dog hiding somewhere in the dawn’s early light.
I had had my breakfast, not with my American Folgers, since I had had no time before I left the States to buy some to bring with me. I sat down at my sewing machine and got busy finishing the kitchen curtains. The 4th faded slowly away into the stitches, the minutes, the hours, the barking dog and my cat Maggie. Home on the Range had survived my busy-ness and indeed, the skies had not been cloudy all day. At 5 pm my oldest sister in-law called to invite us for dinner at a wonderful restaurant in Playa El Agua that stands right on the sand. From the terrace, you can see the wide expanse of ocean and your ears become full of the sound of the waves.
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