things, while Juanita sits on a back stoop being ignored by the whole world. She gets up slowly, with a tired sigh. She hates to tell her aunt, but she doesn’t really believe Tía Lola can help her feel special this Fourth of July.
The funny thing about feeling sorry for yourself is that once you’re busy doing something you really love, you kind of forget to remember yourself. Juanita is so caught up in her garden, harvesting flowers while Tía Lola readies several dozen Dixie cups, that she doesn’t notice when the shouts and calls have stopped in the back pasture, the team streams by, the cars come down the driveway as the guests start to arrive.
Her sword has been so handy. The plastic edge is suddenly sharp enough to use for cutting stems, but not too sharp that she might cut herself. The letters rub off the blade as she works. Who cares? Joan isn’t really her name, after all. At one point, when she’s standing very still, a paleyellow butterfly lands right on her bee balm and then on her arm. Juanita had forgotten how much she loves growing flowers!
As they work, Tía Lola and Juanita talk to the flowers, thanking them, explaining why they are cutting some and not others. Tía Lola has told Juanita that this is very important, since all plants, and especially flowers, like it when you pay attention to them. Just like me, Juanita can’t help thinking.
“They look so pretty,” Juanita says, admiring the tray full of Dixie cups, each one filled with red and blue and white flowers. The center of each table will be lined with these patriotic bouquets. What a wonderful surprise for the Fourth of July! Once everyone has eaten, Juanita will come down the stairs in the long white robe from the angel costume Tía Lola made her for carnaval. Stargazer is bringing the hat Juanita remembers admiring in the window of her shop. Juanita can’t wait to see everyone’s face light up at this especially special surprise Tía Lola has thought up.
Almost as if drawn by the promise of a party, the clouds roll in. The random drops turn into a serious patter, and then throwing caution to the wind, the rain pours down. Good thing those fireworks got canceled.
Anticipating bad weather, Mami and Víctor set up the folding tables in the sunporch, jokingly calling it the rain porch. Out back, in their raincoats, Rudy and Woody are grilling hamburgers and hot dogs. Meanwhile, the dining-roomtable is piled with enough food to feed a whole village—fried chicken and potato salad, deviled eggs and cheese sticks, pastelitos and rice and beans, and every imaginable kind of pie.
Everyone is in high spirits, exchanging stories of their summer so far. Most of the talk is about gardens: what’s doing well with this rain, what isn’t. “Yours is amazing!” people exclaim when they look out at the backyard. “Would you take a look at those flowers! And those darling centerpieces!” Whether or not they know it’s her doing, Juanita’s heart swells. People are loving something she helped create.
“You’re going to have to come over to my garden,” people remark after Tía Lola tells everyone who did the flowers. At this rate, Juanita will be booked all summer as a flower-garden consultant.
“My brother and Tía Lola did the vegetables,” Juanita admits, humbled by all this recognition. She looks around for Miguel and spots him sitting on the couch, his leg propped up on the coffee table, obeying orders from “Dr. Víctor” to stay off his foot. Maybe it’s the sword tucked under her arm, but suddenly, it’s as if Juanita has X-ray vision or something. She can tell how tough a day it has been for Miguel, not being able to play, having to watch Essie pitch. And yet he’s been such a good sport. Better than she, Juanita, could ever hope to be. Juanita feels a sudden gush of love for her wonderful, sweet, selfless brother. And, surprisingly, she doesn’t feel any less special just because she can see Miguel is also
The funny thing about feeling sorry for yourself is that once you’re busy doing something you really love, you kind of forget to remember yourself. Juanita is so caught up in her garden, harvesting flowers while Tía Lola readies several dozen Dixie cups, that she doesn’t notice when the shouts and calls have stopped in the back pasture, the team streams by, the cars come down the driveway as the guests start to arrive.
Her sword has been so handy. The plastic edge is suddenly sharp enough to use for cutting stems, but not too sharp that she might cut herself. The letters rub off the blade as she works. Who cares? Joan isn’t really her name, after all. At one point, when she’s standing very still, a paleyellow butterfly lands right on her bee balm and then on her arm. Juanita had forgotten how much she loves growing flowers!
As they work, Tía Lola and Juanita talk to the flowers, thanking them, explaining why they are cutting some and not others. Tía Lola has told Juanita that this is very important, since all plants, and especially flowers, like it when you pay attention to them. Just like me, Juanita can’t help thinking.
“They look so pretty,” Juanita says, admiring the tray full of Dixie cups, each one filled with red and blue and white flowers. The center of each table will be lined with these patriotic bouquets. What a wonderful surprise for the Fourth of July! Once everyone has eaten, Juanita will come down the stairs in the long white robe from the angel costume Tía Lola made her for carnaval. Stargazer is bringing the hat Juanita remembers admiring in the window of her shop. Juanita can’t wait to see everyone’s face light up at this especially special surprise Tía Lola has thought up.
Almost as if drawn by the promise of a party, the clouds roll in. The random drops turn into a serious patter, and then throwing caution to the wind, the rain pours down. Good thing those fireworks got canceled.
Anticipating bad weather, Mami and Víctor set up the folding tables in the sunporch, jokingly calling it the rain porch. Out back, in their raincoats, Rudy and Woody are grilling hamburgers and hot dogs. Meanwhile, the dining-roomtable is piled with enough food to feed a whole village—fried chicken and potato salad, deviled eggs and cheese sticks, pastelitos and rice and beans, and every imaginable kind of pie.
Everyone is in high spirits, exchanging stories of their summer so far. Most of the talk is about gardens: what’s doing well with this rain, what isn’t. “Yours is amazing!” people exclaim when they look out at the backyard. “Would you take a look at those flowers! And those darling centerpieces!” Whether or not they know it’s her doing, Juanita’s heart swells. People are loving something she helped create.
“You’re going to have to come over to my garden,” people remark after Tía Lola tells everyone who did the flowers. At this rate, Juanita will be booked all summer as a flower-garden consultant.
“My brother and Tía Lola did the vegetables,” Juanita admits, humbled by all this recognition. She looks around for Miguel and spots him sitting on the couch, his leg propped up on the coffee table, obeying orders from “Dr. Víctor” to stay off his foot. Maybe it’s the sword tucked under her arm, but suddenly, it’s as if Juanita has X-ray vision or something. She can tell how tough a day it has been for Miguel, not being able to play, having to watch Essie pitch. And yet he’s been such a good sport. Better than she, Juanita, could ever hope to be. Juanita feels a sudden gush of love for her wonderful, sweet, selfless brother. And, surprisingly, she doesn’t feel any less special just because she can see Miguel is also
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