27th September 1988
I hate this godforsaken NO! Ad. Matias says its because I am no longer young and can’t do cartwheels in a turquoise leotard. I think this silver streak at the peak of my scalp is rather becoming. And the rest of my hair is still dark, for now.
But when we were young we fought back. We didn’t play by the rules. Especially when there is such a vague slippery chance of winning with or without them. Better to smash the playing field. But not when your son is at stake. So I’ll vote NO, but Oscar and Tomas will go out with the copper miners and I will hold my son, and point towards El Teniente and say that is where the real men reside. May he grow steadfast and broad shouldered like his Abuelo and Tios. Let him work, so his hands don’t stay delicate like his father’s. Beatriz will be a surgeon and Ramon will be a fighter. A conquistador. Bolivar! And the two of them will heal the world. I used to hear them plotting under the covers when they’re supposed to be asleep. They have big hearts and big ideas, and all my hope is poured into them.