Hip Hip Hooray

HIP HIP HOORAY

We’re far away from the dragon. We made it!!!

Shh.

We arrive with the sun in the heart of this new country.

We’re on cobblestones with our luggage. I exhale.

I open the lock box.

Shh.

My forehead unscrunches, my face brightens.

There it is: the Key to everything good.

The key is cold from the night as I insert it into the ancient door.

We agree on what we hear next: a dove among the morning birds.

“Oh, he’s happy. He’s going Hip Hip Hooray,” says the child.

“That’s Bill. He’s a widower. His wife died. “

My little girl thinks Bill is saying Hip Hip Hooray.

My little boy says, "But that's English!”

Bill is heard again! CooCoo C-Coooo.

Now we all hear it, hip hip hooray.

Their heads tilt skyward.

Then all the way down.

Six years of life marvels, “So many shiny stones.”

“Those are cobblestones.”

"I like it here."

"What’s it called?"

“San Miguel.”

The colors put us all in the same vivid dream:

Gold, cobalt, saffron, rust. And the blue sky.

Soon the long buried joy in my brain tiptoes out.

Formerly hiding. Shhh. More shoes could drop.

Drop drop drop drop. But not here. We're safe here.

The key does its job.

The ancient door reveals home, like a family member greeting us.

Just how I remember.

Paintings, sculptures, sunbeams, birds, plants, color.

The rooms smile as we peak in them. Bienvenido!

We dance as long as we can. In the Casa San Miguel.

Then we sink into the biggest bed. We stare up at boveda brick.

The shadow of something whips by the window. More birds.

“Do we have to go back?"

My boy speaks only when it matters.

We hear a parade approaching.

“….No. This is our life.”

Hip Hip Hooray, the dove coos.