Catalina

by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio

My grandparents lived hunched over, arms linked; climbing up in this world meant standing on their backs, and they let me know it. “All of this is for you,”

we were migrants, we were exiles, we were anointed, we were people protected by God, and people like Nathaniel and his friends were tourists.

I wanted to be loved and admired, but I did not want to be talked about.

the gold was here now, just like the khipu and just like me. We could have been anywhere in the world but tonight we were here, for you.

There was a side of steamed broccoli. The salt was on the table.

This is so fucking funny

I could not remember a time when I did not want to die. But now I no longer felt like dying. The worst had happened, and here we were.

A new chapter was starting. There were days to be had.