of the day she always appears in a different dress. It never passed through their minds to go into debt. TÃo Ramón gave me my most useful guidelines for living, as I discovered in therapy as a mature woman: a selective memory for remembering the good things, a logical prudence to avoid doing anything to ruin the present, and defiant optimism for facing the future. He also instilled a spirit of serving, and taught me not to complain because that will ruin your health. He has been my best friend; there is nothing I havenât shared with him. Because of the way he and my mother brought me up, added to the alarms of exile, I have a peasant mentality when it comes to money. If it were up to me, I would hide my savings under the mattress, as Tabraâs former suitor did with his bars of silver. The way my husband went through money horrified me, but every time I stuck my nose in his business, it caused a battle.
After the manuscript of Paula was sent to Spain and had safely arrived in the hands of Carmen Balcells, I was overcome by a profound weariness. I was extremely busy with family, travels, lectures, readings, and the bureaucracy of my office, which had been growing until it had reached terrifying proportions. Time refused to do my bidding; I was circling around in the same spot like a dog chewing its tail, and not producing anything worthwhile. I kept trying to write. I had even finished most of the research for a novel about the gold fever in California. I would sit before my computer with my head filled with ideas but be unable to transfer them to the screen. âYou have to give yourself time, youâre still grieving,â my mother reminded me in her letters, and Abuela Hilda softly repeated the same advice. During that time, she was taking turns between staying at her daughterâs house in Chile and then ours or Nicoâs in California. This kind woman, the mother of Hildita, my brother Panchoâs first wife, had been warmly adopted as grandmother by all of us, especially Nico and you, whom she spoiled from the moment you were born. She was my accomplice in any madness I dreamed up in my youth and companion in your and Nicoâs adventures.
Marijuana and Silicone
A BUELA H ILDA , TIRELESS, TINY, AND CHEERFUL , had managed through a lifetime to avoid things that might cause her anguish. That was probably the secret of her astounding disposition. She had the mouth of a saint: she never spoke ill of anyone, she fled from arguments, she quietly tolerated othersâ stupidity, and she could make herself invisible at will. One time when she had a full-blown case of pneumonia, she kept on her feet for two weeks, until her teeth began to chatter and fever misted her eyeglasses; only then did we realize that she was near leaving us for the other world. She spent ten days in an American hospital where no one spoke Spanish, mute with fright, but if we asked how she felt, she said she was doing fine, and added that the Jell-O and yogurt there were better than what we had in Chile. She lived in a fog; she didnât speak English, and we would forget to translate the medley of tongues we spoke in our house. Since she couldnât understand the words, she observed body language. A year later, when Celiaâs drama erupted, she was the first to have her suspicions, since she picked up signals that the rest of us simply didnât notice. The only medications she took were some mysterious green pills she tossed into her mouth when the atmosphere around her grew too tense. She could not deny your death, Paula, but she pretended that you were on a trip and spoke of you in the future tense, as if she would see you the next day. She had limitless patience with my grandchildren, and although she weighed ninety-five pounds and had the bones of a turtledove, she carried Nicole everywhere she went. We were afraid my youngest grandchild would be fifteen years old before she learned to walk.
âCheer up,
After the manuscript of Paula was sent to Spain and had safely arrived in the hands of Carmen Balcells, I was overcome by a profound weariness. I was extremely busy with family, travels, lectures, readings, and the bureaucracy of my office, which had been growing until it had reached terrifying proportions. Time refused to do my bidding; I was circling around in the same spot like a dog chewing its tail, and not producing anything worthwhile. I kept trying to write. I had even finished most of the research for a novel about the gold fever in California. I would sit before my computer with my head filled with ideas but be unable to transfer them to the screen. âYou have to give yourself time, youâre still grieving,â my mother reminded me in her letters, and Abuela Hilda softly repeated the same advice. During that time, she was taking turns between staying at her daughterâs house in Chile and then ours or Nicoâs in California. This kind woman, the mother of Hildita, my brother Panchoâs first wife, had been warmly adopted as grandmother by all of us, especially Nico and you, whom she spoiled from the moment you were born. She was my accomplice in any madness I dreamed up in my youth and companion in your and Nicoâs adventures.
Marijuana and Silicone
A BUELA H ILDA , TIRELESS, TINY, AND CHEERFUL , had managed through a lifetime to avoid things that might cause her anguish. That was probably the secret of her astounding disposition. She had the mouth of a saint: she never spoke ill of anyone, she fled from arguments, she quietly tolerated othersâ stupidity, and she could make herself invisible at will. One time when she had a full-blown case of pneumonia, she kept on her feet for two weeks, until her teeth began to chatter and fever misted her eyeglasses; only then did we realize that she was near leaving us for the other world. She spent ten days in an American hospital where no one spoke Spanish, mute with fright, but if we asked how she felt, she said she was doing fine, and added that the Jell-O and yogurt there were better than what we had in Chile. She lived in a fog; she didnât speak English, and we would forget to translate the medley of tongues we spoke in our house. Since she couldnât understand the words, she observed body language. A year later, when Celiaâs drama erupted, she was the first to have her suspicions, since she picked up signals that the rest of us simply didnât notice. The only medications she took were some mysterious green pills she tossed into her mouth when the atmosphere around her grew too tense. She could not deny your death, Paula, but she pretended that you were on a trip and spoke of you in the future tense, as if she would see you the next day. She had limitless patience with my grandchildren, and although she weighed ninety-five pounds and had the bones of a turtledove, she carried Nicole everywhere she went. We were afraid my youngest grandchild would be fifteen years old before she learned to walk.
âCheer up,
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