Magdaleno Jaimes
Stories (4/0)
I See Brown
I come from a world where all around me I see brown, From the ground where the sound of working boots’ trudge would lull me to sleep, to the color of my skin, to the color of my eye. In my small pueblo we lived on a small house made of sticks and dirt where we ate and slept on soil, so I hope you understand when I tell you that I Can’t help it if all I see is brown.
By Magdaleno Jaimes3 years ago in Poets
The Tales of a Flustering Valentina
Born on January 29th, in a small city in Mexico our heroine burst out from her mother’s womb, 6 hours into labor, ready to face the world. The nurse, overworked and tired, runs out “It’s a boy!” she shouts and returns to clean the baby as the family waiting outside erupts in shouts of joy. Exactly 10 minutes later the attending doctor walks out with a baby girl. With all the corruption in Mexico the family is skeptical and demands to know why they were told the baby was a boy but bring out a girl. The doctors are quick to reassure the family that there were no other babies born on the same day and upon further investigation they arrive to the conclusion that when they picked up the baby she had a bit of poo stuck to her bottom, not to mention she was a little hairy thing, and therefore the tired nurse got confused. Relieved and happy the family decide to name her Valentina, a name meaning bravery and strength, a name for a brave soldier. She has always felt this name was an oxymoron, and that it cursed her to be faced with many embarrassing tales.
By Magdaleno Jaimes3 years ago in Confessions
Painting a la Bordeaux
I rub my sweaty palms against the side of my pants as I open the clear glass door. Soft music and chatter surround me, increasing my anxiety up a notch. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I came in, but it was not this. How long has it been since I’ve been on a date? “You’ll die alone at this point.” I shake my head as my friend’s taunts ring through my ears. “Just leave it to us. We will set it all up and I promise you’ll have a good time.” Right, because standing here awkwardly is a good time. A couple comes in and give me a side eye as they walk past and grab an apron, she nudges him playfully and points to an empty space by the window. I should probably do the same, no point in just standing around. I catch a young lady’s stare as I pick a table close by and sit down. I’m suddenly very aware that I am the only person by themselves in the studio and I pray I don’t sound like a dumb ass as she approaches me. “Hi there, I’m Alyson and I’ll be your instructor slash host today! Are you here for our couple’s class?” she gives a quick glance around the room. “Um yeah” I clear my throat at her blank stare, trying to pretend I paused on purpose. “I’m waiting for my date still. She’s just running a little late.” Jesus Crist speak English man! She gives me a small sympathetic smile. “That’s cool class won’t start for another 30 minutes. Do you want to look at our wine chart while you wait?” I nod grateful for a distraction and watch her walk back to her podium before returning with 2 wooden charts. “Everything you need for the class is set up in front of you. As for the wines I highly recommend the zinfandel, my favorite, but we have a variety of choices. Since you’re new here I’ll run the chart over real quick. We have three wine categories: Moscato’s, Reds, and Whites. Each wine has a description beside it, and we can guide you to a wine that fits your personality if you need it. I’ll give you some time to look it over and let me know when you’ve found the one.” She gives me a small pat and a wink before walking away to greet a couple at a different table. I notice the zinfandel she mentioned: Full bodied, spicy, and bold! As expected of an art instructor, but definitely not for me.
By Magdaleno Jaimes3 years ago in Humans
Bargain Gem
As you browse through your local thrift store at Houston, you might bump in to a short, curly haired Hispanic lady wearing a cute pair of flower sandals; this would be my mom. Ever since I can remember we’ve been shopping at thrift stores, spending HOURS at a time looking through the piles and piles of thrifty goods. Nearly every weekend we’d take the morning bus that would drop us off exactly 83 steps to our nearest Goodwill and then, after about 2 hours or more, we’d take the 2 Bellaire bus that would drive us all the way to my mom’s favorite Texas Thrift store. From little home goods, to clothes and even a full nativity sets, she’s filled our whole house with little nick-nacks. Nearly 80% of my home decor is made up of some type of thrift bargain. Sometimes she’d find things that would look nearly knew, and others she would give it a little TLC treatment to make them shine. I used to think my mom was a magician, transforming even the most dubious findings into a work of art. Oh, the stories I could tell of our thrifting rendezvous, but my favorite one would also have to be one of immense value to me.
By Magdaleno Jaimes3 years ago in Families