Quetzales

August is supposed to have two full moons this year.  I think that explains a lot.  

My voice is still messed up.  I haven't been taking cold medicine, but I feel like I'm walking around in a bubble.  My head is a fog.  I can't really focus on anything.  I'm weirdly detached, which is a relief.  Sometimes I notice I'm slumping.  It's like there aren't bones in my body.  

It's been busy since my life died and I took three days off during the first week of school.  I had to screen Eduardo's little sister for English services.  She's cute.  When she gets excited, a mix of words come out, all of the English and Spanish at one time.  She told me some wild story about an aguila attacking their pollitos, and her brother came to the rescue.  
"Eduardo."  I said.
"I know him."

"He puts pictures of a Guatemalan bird all over the house...."  she answered.

"Quetzal."  I responded.

"It's a Quetzal."

I was sitting in the trailer at 7:30 in the morning, looking at pictures of Lola on my phone.  I heard a knock on the door.  I had no idea who it might be.  I opened the door and saw Eduardo standing there.  I kind of screamed and hugged him.

"How are you?"  I exclaimed, in English.

He looked at me a little blankly and we started speaking in Spanish.  Middle school was going well.  His classes were easy and his new ESOL teacher was nice.  Many of our group from last year are in his classes this year.  He looked at me a little cautiously when I clearly couldn't even think of the names of our group from last year.

"My dog died." I told him.

I started to cry.

He looked baffled and pointed at the pictures of Lola on the walls behind my desk.  

"Yeah." I said and turned around to get myself together.  

"So, tell me about this aguila and the pollito attack."  I continued.  

He told me the story about chasing the hawk off of their chicken.  That it died anyway a day later and that he suggested to the family that they just eat it.  

He looked good.  He had new glasses and a new haircut.  He had little jeans on and a new long sleeved t-shirt.  New shoes.  He looked like a normal sixth grader, less migranty, no longer wearing Goodwill cast offs and a heavy coat.  He checked his digital watch.  He saw me notice and smiled.  

"I have a new friend.  From Cuba.  Only been here two months."  he told me.  

"That's great!"  I responded.  

"You should go soon, it's almost time for your bus."  I told him.  

He hugged me really hard.

"I'm sorry about your dog." he mentioned again, and ran across the grass behind the school.  

I watched him run up the hill and for once, he turned and waved.