When I make sofrito with my mother’s hands I peel the garlic and then smash its teeth like someone unfulfilled. I chop the onions into small pieces of shattered dreams and shed not a tear for what could have been. The tiny seeds inside the bell peppers speak of an innocent schoolgirl with yucca fritters inside her lunch box skipping on paper clouds on her way to hope. The sofrito in my pan doesn’t care about the woman inside the girl who dreams of a white wedding dress. It sizzles in the olive oil and lays waste to the woman pushing a stroller on the Malecón. It has no memory of long lines to get a handful of black beans or the despair in her own mother’s eyes. When it’s ready it’s pungent and strong and fills the entire house.
Eduardo R. del Rio was born in Havana, Cuba and grew up in San Juan, Puerto Rico. He is the editor of The Prentice Hall Anthology of Latino Literature, as well as the author of One Island Many Voices by Arizona Press and Cubarican by Mouthfeel Press. His collection The Lost Train and other Stories will be released this fall by FlowerSong Press. His poems and stories have appeared in Pleiades, The Bellingham Review, Voices de la Luna and various other journals. He lives in the southern border town of Brownsville TX.
