Have You Seen Marie? Read Online Free PDF

American flags and homemade signs. “God Bless Private Manny Cantú.” “Bring Home the Troops Now.” “Please Don’t Let Your Dog Poop On My Yard.”
    I wanted both the story and the art to capture the offbeat beauty of the rasquache , things made with materials readily at hand, funky architecture and funky gardens, creative ways of making do, because it seems to me that this is what is uniquely gorgeous about San Antonio.
    I knew as I wrote this story that it was helping to bring me back to myself. It’s essential to create when the spirit is dying. It doesn’t matter what. Sometimes it helps to draw. Sometimes to plant a garden. Sometimes to make a Valentine’s Day card. Or to sing, or create an altar. Creating nourishes the spirit.
    I’ve lived in my neighborhood for over twenty years, longer than I’ve lived anywhere. Last April, just as folks brushed a new coat of paint on their porches and trimmed their gardens for the annual King William parade, my neighbor, Reverend Chavana, passed away unexpectedly. His family surprised me by asking if I’d write his eulogy. I can’t make a casserole, but I felt useful during a time when I usually feel useless, and I was grateful.
    There is no getting over death, only learning how to travel alongside it. It knows no linear time. Sometimes the pain is as fresh as if it just happened. Sometimes it’s a space I tap with my tongue daily like a missing molar.
    Say what they say, some may doubt the existence of God, but everyone is certain of the existence of love. Something is there, then, beyond our lives, that for lack of a better word I’ll call spirit. Some know it by other names. I know it only as love.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
    Thanks to my lovely neighbors and friends who took the time to pose or inspire this story. First and foremost to Rosalind Bell, who lived it. And to Blanca Bolner Bird and her daughter Eleanor, Penny Boyer and Lydia Sánchez, Antonia Castañeda, Theresa E. Chavana and family, David A. Chávez, Josephine F. Garza, Helen G. Geyer, Rodolfo S. López, Carolyn Martínez, Craig Pennel, Gloria Ramírez, William Sánchez, Beverly Schwartzman, John M. Shirley Jr., Roger S. Solís, Brad and Dina Toland and their children Alec and Maddie, Mike Villarreal and Jeanne Russell and their children Bella and Marcos, Anne Wallace, and finally, the real Marie. For allowing me the liberty to imagine your story, I bow with gratitude.
    I want to thank la maestra Elena Poniatowska for her generosity in allowing me to borrow her words from La Flor de Lis .
    I am grateful to my Macondo buddies, who serve as my personal editors—Dennis Mathis, Kristin Naca, Erasmo Guerra, and Ruth Béhar. For faith and vision I am blessed with my agent Susan Bergholz and editor Robin Desser. Liliana Valenzuela once again gave light to my work with her own sparkling translation; as ever she did so with a poet’s ear, a hummingbird’s speed, and the Buddha’s patience. Thank you, Olivia Doerge and Irma Carolina Rubio, for your gentle care during my period of grief. Finally, how did I convince Ester Hernández to agree to voyage beyond the zone of comfort? Who knows, but good lucky.
    Thank you, San Antonio. Gracias a la vida .
    —SANDRA CISNEROS
    Gracias, Sandra, for being a sister and comadre by honoring and entrusting me with the illustrations for your beautiful story—our story, which allowed me to venture into new territories of creativity. For Susan Bergholz, our agent, and Robin Desser, our editor from Knopf, for your respectful support, wisdom, and guidance throughout this book project—my first. To my son Jacobo, daughter-in-law Kazuyo, and granddaughter Anais Yuzuki for your unconditional love and support. To all my other family and friends who were patiently and lovingly behind me when I “disappeared.” To all of you who inspired and modeled for us, especially Geri Montano, Michelle Mounton, Ana Guadalupe Avilés, Anais Tsujii Durbin, Luz Medina Hernández, Esperanza López,