Esperanza Rising

ever-present aroma of garlic, face powder, and
peppermint.
“What happened to your finger?” asked Abuel-
ita.
“A big thorn,” said Esperanza.
Abuelita nodded and said thoughtfully, “No hay
rosa sin espinas.There is no rose without thorns.”
Esperanza smiled, knowing that Abuelita
wasn’t talking about flowers at all but that there
was no life without difficulties. She watched the
silver crochet needle dance back and forth in her
grandmother’s hand. When a strand of hair fell
into her lap, Abuelita picked it up and held it
against the yarn and stitched it into the blanket.
“Esperanza, in this way my love and good
wishes will be in the blanket forever. Now
watch. Ten stitches up to the top of the mountain.
Add one stitch. Nine stitches down to the bottom
of the valley. Skip one.”
Esperanza picked up her own crochet needle
and copied Abuelita’smovements and then looked
at her own crocheting. The tops of her mountains