lil Belize

“Please mom! It’s my favorite bracelet!” Clasping the golden bracelet onto her daughter’s wrist, Lila grinned, remembering her first encounter with her favorite bracelet as a young girl, she was seven.

In the south of Belize, she grew up in a little cinder block home, fit for two but stuffed with five of them; her Ma, Pa, (though he was mostly off to work in the jungle), and two siblings snuggled closely together. Their copper zinc rooftop would sizzle when the sun got too hot and make music when it rained. Each morning the orange-pink sun would rise boldly, piercing into Lila’s brown eyes and warming her african cheeks.

She’d jump out of bed with joy, grabbing her favorite small black notebook and racing up to the rooftop before it was too hot. Stretching out like the monkeys she’d seen in the Pomona jungle and as if tree limbs herself, her dark thin arms and legs would climb as fast as she could up the mango tree, wrapping around the trunk and grabbing each branch until she reached up and over to the rooftop, her beaded braids bouncing off her back. Each day she awaited what the sun would show her; the colors, shadows, people passing by and how it made her feel. Lila dreamed of being a journalist someday. Fiercely trying to examine the sky like a young detective she jotted down each detail as if a record keeper, until she would hear, “Lila!,” her mom would call just in time for the school bus and she’d jump up, grabbing her favorite small black notebook and racing down the rooftop before it was too hot. Stretching out like the monkeys she’d seen in the Pomona jungle and as if tree limbs herself, her dark thin arms and legs would climb as fast as she could down the mango tree, wrapping around the trunk and grabbing each branch until she reached down and over to the ground, her beaded braids bouncing off her back.

Another day off to school and she's already thinking of what the moonlight will look like later. Remembering it’s Friday she giggled with excitement knowing tomorrow was the day each week she got to sell fresh fruits and veggies with her Ma, just over at the Dangriga market! There she’d see all kinds of strange people to write about, the peculiar ones always stopping to buy local fruit. Yellow, black, white and even people with gray hair passed by, she could count them by the hundreds.

But this particular Saturday was unusual, only two people stopped to buy fruit and she did not know why, she jotted about them in her favorite small black notebook anyways. Ma said something about a dark sickness that no longer allowed people to travel on big planes. “I’m sure they will come back,” Lila thought aloud. The next Saturday the same thing happened, then again the next after that. “Next week we have to go stay with grandma for awhile,” Ma said. “But why Ma?!,” Lila complained. Thinking, it must have something to do with those travelers.

That next Saturday morning was her last time upon their copper zinc rooftop; so she jumped out of bed with joy, grabbed her favorite small black notebook and raced up to the rooftop before it was too hot. Stretching out like the monkeys she’d seen in the Pomona jungle and as if tree limbs herself, her dark thin arms and legs climbed as fast as she could up the mango tree, wrapping around the trunk and grabbing each branch until she reached up and over to the rooftop, her beaded braids bouncing off her back. She jotted about her favorite sun yet. “Lila!,” her mom called, but this time it was for their moving truck, her uncle's 1975 orange chevy, painted in with tiger stripes.

That Saturday Lila and her Ma sold fruit at the market as usual, but still it was quiet, until Lila saw a pretty lady wearing a yellow-daisy patterned sundress humming as she came. She smiled widely as her bright blue eyes gushed over each fruit as if she had never seen them quite before. The blue eyed lady bought each and every fruit and thanked them all gladly. She had brownish red hair, see-through skin and Lila saw her each Saturday, waving and smiling back each time. Lila reached down to write about this lady but noticed her favorite small black notebook was not in her pocket this time, she musta left it on their copper roof!

Coming from the Big Apple of New York, Lily was ready for a drastic change, her big dreams were as bright as her blue eyes and gave her a long career as a travel journalist after college. But all of it had come to a sudden halt as a dark sickness swept through the city. Time kept passing and she became bored, remembering the good old days of summer trips abroad in college, she decided to pack up for a few months and try out a new country; somewhere she could be that was tropical yet inspirational for her writing again. Scrolling through her contacts, she met up with her local farmer who had moved to New York a decade ago from Central America; he recommended a few spots and names to rent from, Lily felt ready and eager! She wanted to discover a new culture, and embrace a minimal and simple lifestyle, so landed in the south of Belize; in a little cinder block home, fit for two but stuffed with five of her suitcases. The copper zinc rooftop would sizzle when the sun got too hot and make music when it rained. Each morning the orange-pink sun would rise boldly, piercing into Lily’s blue eyes and warming her english cheeks. Renting this perfect little home, she grinned and thought, “This will do!”, her inspiration trip was in motion.

Each Saturday she’d head out to her local market and buy every new fruit she could find, one stand in particular stood out as a tiny Belizean girl and her Mom always smiled and waved back. Lily would smile wide and mouth a “see you later,” and each weekend she did, sometimes even sitting at the wall nearby to enjoy her fresh fruit. One day the tiny girl climbed up the small wall and plopped right down beside her. “I’m Lila,” smiling at each other, Lily looked over with her bright blue eyes and broke off a piece of her coastal apple to share with her new little friend. Lily introduced herself and told Lila she was a travel journalist from a place “just like this Apple, called New York.” Lila’s heart gasped, “that’s what I wan’ be!,” she shouted.

Each time Lily returned, her little friend would sit on the exact same wall and wait with eager eyes and expectant brows for her new apple friend to come by, and each Saturday they'd sit together for a few minutes to enjoy a new fruit.

At sunset one night, Lily decided to pick a fresh mango she saw ripening outside her bedroom window. The stars were especially brilliant and they seemed to even beckon her. As she neared the mango tree, she noticed almost a trail leading up to the rooftop. She giggled at herself as she thought, “I’m too old to climb trees. But isn’t this the inspiration I came for?” so up she boosted herself atop the copper roof and laid gazing into the night sky. As she propped herself back up, her hand grazed what seemed to be a booklet. Picking it up, she saw it was a small black notebook, with the letters “l...i…l and capital A” inscribed on the back inside the cover. She wondered if the “lilA” stood for some secret ‘lilAngel’ watching her entire trip. She felt grateful as things were going well, the next day on her morning walk she even came upon a golden bracelet with a heart etched on its clasp and hid it in her pocket for more good luck.

A few months later, when Lily felt refreshed from her trip, she bought a ticket back home, she’d leave on a Sunday. The day before she left she stopped by her favorite market one last time to say goodbye to her little friend and give her the bracelet she found in Belize. “This belongs here, I hope it brings you good luck too,” she grinned as she clasped the golden bracelet onto Lila’s wrist and handed her the last $20 Belizean dollars from her pocket. Lila gave Lily a giant hug, a sweet gifted exchange of their summer friendship. Both went home skipping happily.

A month later in the heat of Fall, Lila could overhear her mom crying frantically. Listening in, she heard murmuring about not enough food to feed them this week, Lila tried to think of a helpful solution, maybe she could go door to door selling fruit, or better yet sell her own goods. Trying to tell her mom to not fret and comfort her, she tugged on her mom's long dress to get her attention but she didn’t notice. Lila’s mom just kept on crying, so off Lila ran to Treasure Pirates, the nearest pawn store.

“I wan’ trade in my bracelet here sir,” A lady nearby smiled as she thought Lila was adorable.

“Where did you get this!?” the Pawn man said as he examined the bracelet very carefully. He sounded worried as if she'd stolen it.

“My apple fren” Lila whimpered, “it mean lots to me but we need mooney for food instead so please gimme your bestest price sir.”

Smiling coyly, the pawn man leaned over the counter, “Well this is a very rare bracelet and vintage at that, this is the best that I can do and think you will be satisfied.” Lila barely understood any of his jargon or what vintage meant, but as she looked up her mouth dropped open as her fists gripped tightly, and she ran home as fast as she could, her beaded braids bouncing off her back.

“Here Ma!!!, she cheered, as she handed over what clasped tightly in her hands, was twenty thousand dollars.