‘La Nina de’ Canutito ‘tenia una’ perfect nose
Un sábado, Canutito had nothing to do de manera que he began rifling through the drawers en la máquina de coser que Grama Cuca had in the bedroom. He loved to move the cast iron foot pedal en la Singer Sewing Machine para ver just how fast he could make it go pa’trás y pa’delante. Pero hoy, en uno de los cajoncitos, Canutito found an old black and white picture de una baby sitting en una silla mecedora. It seemed como que la niñita era muy risueña sentada allí en la rocking chair.
“Gee, I wonder quién será esta smiley baby?” Canutito wondered. En ese momento, Grama Cuca happened to come into el cuarto de dormir. She found Canutito studying el retrato con muy interés.
“She’s a pretty baby, ¿qué no, m’hijo?” she asked Canutito, as she peered over his shoulder. “Who was she, grama?” asked the little boy.
“Era un tía,” Grama Cuca said, as she sat down en la cama .“Cuando ella era baby, yo la mecía en mis brazos, singing “muñequita linda, del cabello de oro, dientecitos de perla, boquita de coral as I rocked her.”
Canutito translated: “pretty little dolly with hair of gold, teeth set like pearls and a mouth like red coral.” He studied the picture otro poquito. ¿Did you say que she was mi tía, grama?” he prodded.
“Not only was she your aunt, m’hijo,” grama replied, “Ahe baptized you when you were still a little guzanito.”
“I was never a worm!” Canutito defended himself. He studied the picture un poco más.
“You have no idea, m’hijo,” grama said. “Let me tell you a little secret: esta muchachita was born without a nose.”
“Babies can’t breathe sin una nariz, grama,” Canutito said. “How did she get esta nariz tan bonita?”
“Siéntate aquí, m’hijo,” Grama Cuca said, patting en lado de la cama next to her. “Many years ago, cuando yo iba a tener a esta baby, we lived far in the country. I knew que I wouldn’t be able to wait until your grampo drove me over to the big city so I asked him to get a curandera and bring her home to help me.” “What is a ‘curandera’, grama?” Canutito asked her. “She is a self-taught medicine woman, m’hijo,” Grama Cuca explained. “Tu grampo went en la troca and picked up a Mana Sofía. Esa curandera never wore zapatos on her feet porque she needed to be touching the ground en todo tiempo and especialmente cuando she was working her medicina. She got into the house just as I started to have this baby girl. La niña nació easily enough nomás que instead of a nose, all she had was a small lump en la cara. Mana Sofía knew her medicina so she began to work the muscles en la cara de tu tía while she was still recién nacida, she actually molded and formed una nariz con sus dedos.
“Really, grama?” Canutito asked her. “What ever happened to her? Did she become una beauty queen o algo como eso?”
“No, m’hijo,” grama smiled. “She dedicated toda su vida to teaching. Fue una maestra en la escuela for over twenty five years. Todos sus escueleros loved her porque she was so kind y muchos de sus little school kids tenían un crush en ella porque she was so pretty. She had to stop teaching porque she got muy enferma y murió,” grama said sadly.
“Grama,” he asked quietly, “can I have este retrato? I want to put it next to my bed pa’ acordarme de la baby con la nariz perfecta.”
“Sí, m’hijo,” grama said. “I put ese retrato en el cajoncito hoping that one day you would find it.”