The Butterfly’s Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page B

write in both English and Spanish, but for her, these were necessary skills, not ones used for pleasure. Cooking, gardening, sewing—these were skills she valued as a woman. Abuela’s worst fears were realized. Mariposa had been at the university for less than a year before she ran off to America with a German student, a young man she had never brought home to meet her father and mother. Years later, when Luz had wanted to go to college, Abuela didn’t forbid her, but neither did she support her. She wanted Luz to marry Sully and to settle down as a wife and mother. “What do you want with all those books?” she’d ask when she saw Luz squirreled in her room reading.
    Abuela looked deeply into Luz’s eyes, her face softening with affection. “Mariposa was impulsive. But you are fortaleza, eh? Strong and dependable. You have a special light in your eyes that comes from your soul. I saw this the moment you were born.”
    Luz looked away, disturbed that she couldn’t see that light shining in her own eyes. “Maybe my mother wasn’t impulsive,” she said, feeling a sudden urge to defend her dead mother. “Maybe she was like the goddess Little Nana. She had courage. She wasn’t afraid to jump into the flame.”
    â€œListen to me, Luz. I am old enough to know I do not have all the answers. But I know this. Impulsive is not the same as courage. True courage comes from the heart. Tu corazón . Sometimes, it takes more courage not to jump and to stand strong. When each of us looks into the fire, we must decide for ourselves whether to jump.”
    Abuela leaned back in her chair, her eyes bright with resolution. “But you and me, we must jump now.” Her wizened face softened and she reached out across the table, wiggling her fingers, luring her granddaughter to place her hands in her outstretched ones, as she did when Luz was a little girl. Luz obliged.
    â€œI see in your eyes your doubts. Do not worry. This journey will answer many of your questions,” Abuela said. “We will go to San Antonio in our fine car. We will see our family there. Then, we will continue on to Mexico. To Angangueo, where Manolo and my family live. What a reunion we shall have! Then finally, we will go to the mountains to see the butterflies. Together, as we always planned we would. Soon you will stand at the precipice of the Sacred Circle, as my mother stood with me, and I stood with your mother. As we have done for generations. You will dance with the butterflies. You will take your place with the goddesses.”
    Luz sighed with resignation, having heard this story many times before. Other children heard fairy tales about Hansel and Gretel, Sleeping Beauty, or Jack and the Beanstalk. Abuela had told Luz myths about the Aztec gods and goddesses and the monarch butterflies in the mountains of Mexico. But that’s all they were to Luz—childhood stories.
    â€œLast I looked,” Luz said with a self-deprecating smile, “goddesses didn’t work for minimum wage in a factory.”
    â€œOh, yes they do!” Abuela said with a squeeze of her hands. “Goddesses are everywhere, if you look for them.”
    â€œEven if I wanted to go, I don’t think that car can make it all the way to Mexico.”
    â€œThat little car has great heart. I have faith. And so should you. I dream of going all the way home to Mexico. But in truth, all that car has to do is get us to Texas. After that . . .” She shrugged. “We will hope for the best.” Abuela brightened and in a burst of enthusiasm rose from her chair. “I have studied the map. Wait!”
    A few minutes later Esperanza came hurrying back into the kitchen carrying sheets of paper and maps. She spread out a map on the table and pointed a gnarled finger at a spot she’d circled in red.
    â€œHere is Milwaukee, see? First, we go to San Antonio. Today I called Jorge Delgado. He owns the