I Made Enchiladas for My brother

A visit with my brother

AJ came to visit me yesterday. I made him a nice healthy stack of Enchiladas de mole and I did it the right way- with a jar sauce. It’s ok my bro ain’t picky. In fact, he can shovel just about anything food-like down with a smile but he swears I’m actually a chef 🙂

We talked between bites about making a trip down to Floresville, grumbled about North Korea, and  then about how he’s gotten super excellent at astral travel….apparently we meet up often and fly through tree tops or visit with Temo at a park. How cool is that? No, I never remember these shenanigans.

My mom is sitting from afar listening to all of this with her face screwed up to heaven wondering, probably, how it is that she birthed these heathens. I giggle in her direction. Sorry ma.

We continue chatting away. Our conversations are always intense because its always like the last time we will see  each other because it is so rare that we see each other. He just turned 33.  We talk about that, about the numerology of 3 and wisdom, about the fact that he finally feels like a  full grown adult. Of course, as he says all this stuff, I still see a baby when I look at him. That fat annoying baby who would steal my popsicles out of my hand in the middle of  summer. He is also the same kid who liked to moustache all of my art when I wasn’t looking.

I’ve watched him evolve from a terrified kid with a life threatening disease into vary self-assured man who takes no shit from anyone. Long term Illness can make or break you. I have to say it’s done a little of both to him.  He lives by his rules and can be difficult to track. I realized he tends to keep away when he gets sick. He doesn’t want us to worry about him…some years I hardly see him at all.

I like to imagine my big hairy brown brother is actually a nagual that turns into a bear from October through January. This is the time he goes missing the longest. Personally, I think he’s a brujo but he would never admit that in front of my mom. I’m kind of not joking…into the occult, check. Stack of cats, check. Brown and scary looking, check.

I have accepted the fact that he is MIA from my life especially during time because he gets seasonal funk and just plain hates the fake of it all. I must be content with the moments he allows between us even when I miss him. I have learned to love him the way he wants me to. One thing I know is that giving  of yourself does not guarantee a return and we have to stop expecting that. The source of heartbreak is expectation. So I love my half crazy grumpy brother as best I can because the days grow short on us all. He’s hilarious and he loves my food and of course we chill all the time on the astral.How cool is that?



Artist at The Flowering Reed
Acaxochitl is a proud mother, a lover of words, and an artist. She enjoys creating art that reflects her indigenous roots and hopes to inspire other Xicanas to get creative.

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One thought on “I Made Enchiladas for My brother”

  1. What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
    Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
    You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
    A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
    And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
    And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
    There is shadow under this red rock
    (Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
    And I will show you something different from either
    Your shadow at morning striding behind you
    Or your shadow at evening rising up to meet you:
    I will show you fear in a handful of dust….

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