Even though it soon means hitting the migrant road again for the warmer weather of south Georgia and the vegetable growing and harvesting season of winter Florida, I love the South Carolina low-country fall.
Here, the maple tree leaves look as if they've been dabbed with colors from a heavenly palette.
Here, the pine tree needles look as if they've been encircled by long, winding mountain roads.
How much is the migrant life like these maple leaves and pine needles?
It's like a long, winding mountain road, with moments of fear when I feel as if we may fall off the side of the mountain into the utter darkness below.
It's like a golden yellow leaf, with moments of grace when I feel as if I should smile at the heavens because God's face is smiling on us.
“Think of the ground of the heart," says my abuelo as he sits down beside me and puts his arm around my shoulder.
"Sometimes it is soft and fertile, filled with good soil.
Sometimes it is hard and rocky, filled with clumps of clay.
The ground of your heart, mi nieto, is a good place to grow an orchard of peach trees and a field of tomatoes.
Your heart, Hilcias, is good.”
- trevor scott barton, stories for brown-eyed girls, 2024
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