Hilcias, his mamí and his abuelo stopped outside under the peach trees.
Dr. Maria came out to say hello.
All of the migrant workers were covered with dirt and sweat and their sacks were filled with peaches.
Hilcias whistled a hello to Dr. Maria and grinned.
He took a peach out of his sack and she looked at it.
It was red and yellow.
It was fuzzy and easy to hold in her hand.
He tossed it to her so she could carry it to the clinic.
That evening, before Hilcias and his mamí and his abuelo went back to their bus, Dr. Maria said, “Hilcias, something is out by the magnolia tree for you.”
He went out by the steps behind the clinic and picked up a book she had left for him.
It was The Princeton Field Guide to Whales and Dolphins, with a blue whale on the cover.
Hilcias opened the book to the page about blue whales and stared at it as he went back toward his family.
It was hard to walk while he read.
He tripped over a hoe.
The grown ups smiled when he appeared with the book.
“Here’s to all the whales we’ve never seen, Hilcias,” said Dr. Maria.
“They’re beautiful,” whistled Hilcias. “Thank you.”
Dr. Maria walked the dusty path with the family back to their bus.
One by one the people began to file out of the fields and orchard. Some carried sacks full of tomatoes, some carried sacks full of peaches that made your body itch if they touched your skin.
The women entered their yards and began cooking beans and tortillas.
Dr. Maria sat near the door of the bus with Hilcias, his mamí and his abuelo.
Mrs. Smith came by and passed around large cups of sweet tea to everyone.
The men got together into small groups, sitting on the ground under the large magnolia trees and drinking their tea.
The women took their babies off of their backs and the old abuelas swayed them on their laps and made them coo and smile.
“Days have ended like this for migrant workers on the Smith’s farm for as long as I’ve been at the clinic,” said Dr. Maria.
All of the workers would gather together.
The women would cook until everyone was fed.
Everyone would talk, laugh and dance.
On Johns Island, most of the migrants were Central American farmers who labored in tomato plants and peach trees and lived in dilapidated sharecropper shacks left over from the days of Jim Crow.
“You’re kind of lucky to live in the bus, with open windows and doors to let in the evening ocean breeze,” said Dr. Maria.
No matter where they lived, this community meal was open to everybody who wanted to come.
The migrants used friendship as a reason to get together and celebrate life.
- stories for a brown-eyed girl, 2020
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