The sun went down slowly on our first day there. I watched the evening sky change from bright blue to shades of red and pink. The sun lingered over the Rumarosa Mountains to the east then sank below the horizon bringing evening shades of purple and embers of coal.
I was sleepy and relieved to be home. This didn’t really seem like home yet, it was too soon, but this is where we were heading and we were not going anyplace else. Mama spread a blanket out on the floor for all of us. We would not need to cover ourselves that night. I snuggled with my sisters. Roberto made space for himself nearby. My mother and father spread out their mattress near the door.
It was still quite hot but the dark of night had made the temperature feel comfortable. Mexicali seemed to be a quiet town, a quiet place to live. The people seemed friendly and willing to help each other out. I made friends with a couple of boys my same age. These thoughts were drifting in and out of my head as I was drifting into sleep.
“Is it going to be okay here? Will we be safe? The ladies were talking. Did you hear anything?” My mama spoke softly she must’ve been thinking that all of us were asleep.
“What did you hear?”
My father whispered back. “There was fighting over here and on the other side of the mountains in the town called Tijuana. There was fighting here. But it is over.”
“These are not the same people. They don’t even know Villa and the others. They follow a man named Ricardo Flores Magon. He has his own cause and it has nothing to do with the Revolution back home. Nobody knows me here. Nobody wants us. I will do my job here. We will be safe.”
“But the soldiers?” My mama whispered. I could tell she was worried.
“I work for the American businessmen on both sides of the border. I’m not involved in politics here. When things settle, we can go back home.”
