Abuela's Marigolds

Abuela loved working in her garden. As we tended to the tomatillos and peppers, she would tell all sorts of wonderful stories about playing in the marigold fields as a child and we’d talk about our dreams of traveling the world together. Marigolds were her favorite flower and her garden was full of them, all shades of fiery reds, oranges, and golden yellows. Each marigold had a specific meaning and she always told me, “Remember mija, orange means passion, yellow is happiness, and red is for love.”

Abuela was my favorite person. From years of working in the fields, Abuela ended up with cancer. She died from leukemia just a few days ago. Since she’s been gone, the days have started blending together. I work, I eat, I sleep, without a care for much else in between. Without her I feel lost. The postcards on my wall of all the places we hoped to travel have even started falling down. Days, weeks, then months pass by, until my walls are bare.

Today is Dia de los Muertos and the whole town is celebrating but I’m not in much of a mood for celebration. I still miss Abuela dearly. It takes Mami reminding me the importance of honoring our ancestors and what a special day today is, to get me out the house. Outside there are colorful decorations everywhere: bright banners and lanterns, and faces of sugar skulls passing by. We get to the ofrenda and there is Abuela’s picture with beautiful bright orange marigolds all around. I’m reminded of her words and burst into tears. Abuela would want me to follow my passion and travel the world, even without her. I decided in that moment that’s exactly what I’ll do. The very next day I booked a flight to Europe.

My first stop is Spain and it is beautiful. The architecture, the food, the people: absolutely breath taking. I can’t stop taking pictures. Everyday I visit the food market. The smell is intoxicating, full of meats, cheeses, breads, pastas, and olives. Abuela would have loved to try Paella Valenciana. The mussels and saffron give this dish such a different taste from the paella we eat at home. And then there’s the plaza. I could spend all day laying in the sun next to the fountain, watching all the many people walk by. I can’t wait to explore the rest of Europe.

I’ve been everywhere between Spain and Italy, capturing every glorious sight, from the giant landmarks to the droplet of water hanging from a leaf. I played around with my instant camera back home but I never knew I could enjoy photography so much. I’ve build a solid portfolio and people are starting to notice my work. Today I’m going to the cafe to meet a potential client. Upon arrival, I notice on the table a little glass vase with a single golden marigold in it. I’m certainly more happy than I’ve ever been. The meeting goes well and they offer to show my word at a gallery. It’s an offer I can’t refuse.

People are flowing in, looking around, and stopping at a few of my most elegant pieces. This gallery showing in Venice is the first of, hopefully, many and I couldn’t be more excited. I glide through the crowd, sharing moments with patrizio and fellow expats alike. I look to my left and catch a glimpse of the most perfect vision of dark curls and olive skin I’ve ever seen. To my surprise, he has a tattoo of a red marigold on his forearm. Without hesitation, I embark on my next adventure.