What the Water Gave Me | Ruby da Cherry

La Adelita, Pancho Villa, and Frida

According to Hawaiian oral tradition, the Hawaiian crow, also known as the 'alala, helps guide souls to their final destination of Ka Lae.

It hurt. It was nothing like the picturesque, storybook telling of near-death-experiences. It wasn't softly floating away or quietly drifting into a deep sleep that I can never wake up from. I felt every excruciating moment of my ordeal.

My day started off as normal. I woke up before the sun, got dressed, made pan, ate breakfast, kissed my mom goodbye, and started to walk into the center of the city, just as I do every day. The hustle of the marketplace never failed to brighten my mornings. As usual, I waved to Señora de la Rosa as she fed the stray cats while she sold fruits.

"How are the mangoes coming in?" I asked. "Your tio getting a good harvest this year?"

She gave me a sad look and I understood the drought has devastated her family farm as well.

I pet one of her cats and a faint drift of corn tortillas from the other street vendors floated down the alleyway. As I do every day, I walked to the market to sell some pan dulce with my best friend, Maritza. We met in the plaza. Just as I do every day. Once I sell all I can, I find my mom and help her sell fruit. We get fruit from her brother, who has us sell it in the city. As always, she picked out the best-looking mango just for me. The last thing I remember is biting into the sweet, succulent fruit. The juice ran down my chin and onto my shirt, staining it with a faint golden hint.

I'm not sure how it happened, but I think I drowned. I don't remember how I got there; I only remember the pain. My lungs burned like I was inhaling smoke. Once I got the courage to open my eyes, I was sitting on the ocean floor with nothing but endless blue waters in either direction. Whenever I tried to swim up, I'd look down to check my progress only to be right back in the sand. It was like an invisible chain was attached to my leg, anchoring me to the sand. My stomach hurt like it was being ripped open. It wasn't peaceful. It wasn't soft. I did not go gentle into that good night.

After my last attempt at escape, I looked down and before me sat a small gemstone, the gold sparkling in the reflection of the sun. As soon as I touched it, the ocean drained. Slowly but surely, the water was replaced by a thick fog. Despite being surrounded by water mere seconds ago, I was bone dry. My shirt was tattered and dirty, but I could still see the mango stain. My mouth was as dry as the Chihuahua Desert. My lips were cracked like a river that once ran for miles but forgot about how water felt a long time ago. My feet were raw and bloody, as were my legs. I was never a stranger to aching feet but this pain was different. I didn't earn this.

Large buildings emerged from the sand and disappeared into the mist in the sky. Still clutching onto the celestial gem, I mustered every bit of courage within me to wander through the fog. I tried to ignore distant cries coming from every direction, but the emotional and physical pain became too much to bear. After what felt like days of walking blindly through the fog, the cries breaking through the silence, a grand temple appeared in a clearing. I entered the building, hoping to find refuge, at least temporarily.