A 57th Birthday


(first published, July 20, 2019)


The woman, holding a guitar and wearing a long flowing skirt, dolled up with flowers in her hair and a big smile, approaches the man holding the Percheron, a large draft horse. "¿Okay? Está bien? Is this okay?" she asks. She'd made the arrangement the previous week and so she was there to keep her promise to herself and to the man holding the horse. It was her 57th birthday, and the first one since her dad had passed, two months ago. 


At first she told herself that she wouldn't celebrate it, that she was too sad, that she was in mourning. But then she thought, "What would Dad want me to do?" And she knew the answer: to enjoy life and to live it to the fullest. So then she thought, "What's the most outrageous thing I could do on my birthday?" And this is what she decided: to get dressed up, go into town with her guitar, and have her photo taken with the guitar while riding the Percheron. At this time in her life, she was making her living performing instrumental/classical guitar, and she still loved animals, so it all seemed fitting. The Sunday of her birthday that year was actually a gig day; if she planned it right, she could set up for the gig, and then slip off to the jardín for the photo shoot.


The big draft horse was there in the jardín every Sunday, because it pulled the ice cream wagon into the middle of town, and then while the family sold scoops of ice cream to tourists, the horse would stand over on the corner and be available for photos. Most people were happy to just pose with the horse; a few were brave enough to climb astride. Nobody had ever thought to bring an expensive guitar all the way up there, high up on the horse's back. But she did it, for herself and in honor of her dad. Afterwards, instead of ice cream, she did the other thing she'd promised herself: she went to Maria Xoconostle, an elegant restaurant/bar in the center of town, and had a shot of the finest tequila reposado to celebrate. ¡Feliz cumpleaños, Frances! Happy Birthday Frances!

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