My Life, and my Bloodline

Celebrating death

Celebration finally arrives….

The guest had started arriving early that week for our celebration.

Many of our guests brought their own entourage with them, their full staff of maids, cooks, and nanny’s. There was a lot of movement at our Hacienda.

Father had ordered extra temporary quarters for the extra staff put up for this occasion; the animal pens in the back corrales were expanded to hold more chickens, cows, and sheep for daily meals; young calves, turkeys, and pigs were fattened up for this occasion. Our celebration was supposed to last for a week.

Leading up to the Cotillion were long days of celebrating with banquets, beautiful cloths, and beautiful people. The best part of the week of celebrating was spending time with my beloved betrothed; although under heavy chaperoning.

Among some of the important dignitaries that arrived for the Cotillion were Presidente Porfirio Diaz himself, and his right arm, Victoriano Huerta, an ally of Porfirio Diaz, who quickly rose through the ranks; enemy to the death of rebel and revolutionary Emiliano Zapata.

So the anticipated moment came. 

It was a beautiful summer day, the sun was shinning the air was warm, the birds were singing. The flowers seemed to be brighter, more fragrant; they were wearing their best colors. How could it not be the best day in my life? Family members long forgotten on not seen in a while were all with us at the Hacienda. Everyone was anxiously looking forward to our cotillion, our betrothal announcements. Important families would be joined through our marriages, making the Sanchez name and Family the strongest and most important in the region.

Nachita and Mother helped me shower and dress for the day. My hair was carefully washed and scented with fresh Jacaranda flowers, my dress was in the latest French fashion. A sweet light green dress made of the finest silk, my elongated corset gave me a slight S-curve silhouette, a tight waistline, the lovely skirt was fitting more closely over the hip and flaring just above the knee. The gown was trimmed with perfect river pearls, and other small jewels My hair was swept on top of my head in a heap of curls, with a lovely Spanish style comb in my hair. The comb I was wearing had been worn by my grandmother when she was presented at her Cotillion; it was adorned with small rubies that surrounded a large oval shaped ruby.

My Nachita claimed the rubies belonged to our noble Aztec ancestors from my Father’s family. As usual I listened to her story nodded and smiled.

My brother Francisco of course was wearing a matching shirt with his suit.

With all the preparations for the Cotillion I was so absorbed in my own world, that I was oblivious to the nervous guests at our Hacienda. Some of the guests were holding secret quite midnight meetings. The security at the Hacienda had been tripled and reinforced overnight. All of us in the family were constantly being followed around by security guards. The guards were carrying more dangerous looking weapons, and were keeping watch around the Hacienda around the clock.

 At the last minute our celebration had been moved from our gloriously jardines, that had been landscaped in anticipation of this event for a year ahead of time; into the inside ball room.

My last memory of this day was being dressed and bejeweled, walking down our regal stair case on my Fathers arm, followed by Francisco, and Mother. I remember how my dress glided elegantly down the stairs, making me feel like the most beautiful and luckiest girl in the world.

Than it all becomes a blur, explosions, gun powder, screaming people, and death...

More explosions, people that just seconds earlier had been laughing and talking lying lifeless everywhere.

I slightly remember Father’s most loyal mozos, personal staff, grabbing Father and I, surrounding us as we ran. I yelled for Mother, and Francisco, but there was too much smoke and confusion to find them. I saw Mother and reached out for her, but there was a loud explosion and I lost her from sight. I was surrounded by darkness and smoke. I blinked furiously to clear my eyes, I tried running with Father and Francisco but I couldn’t get my legs to work or getup on my feet. I turned to look at Father exactly as a bullet shot him; a crimson flower slowly appeared on his chest, to me it looked like a beautiful blooming flower. I screamed, for him, tried to run to his side, but I felt a long dark tunnel keeping me from reaching him, he turned looked at me, called out my name and tried to reach out to me, than came the final explosion, and the world went silent,  darkness overcame me.