"Secrets can only lie in the dark for so long..."
Martha Dévolla had always been a fiery, uncontrollable, ambitious girl since she was young. When her teachers told her to sit still, she leaped about. If the rain poured heavily on her picnic plan...
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COLOMBIA. DENSE, HUMID, these things Martha already knew well. She embraced her motherland, as her deceased mother would call it, with open arms. It was certain things that clung to her soul where ever she went. Like how cold showers felt so much more satisfying than in chilly Forks. Or the pure satisfaction you got when you came home with sweat and dirt all over your body, just by taking a little adventure.
Of course, she wished her Abuelo could've come with them, but Martha was happy she could show Samuel just a little glimpse into her childhood upbringing.
The couple trekked the rough terrain with Anita. Martha had changed into a navy blue sundress that stopped at the tops of her knees. The fabric was linen, which permitted air flow and circulation. Her hair was still wrapped in a low bun however. She didn't think she'd take it down anytime soon during this trip.
Sam slapped his hand against a mosquito pinching into the skin of his arm, scowling in annoyance. Seems the bugs in South America loved his shape shifting blood. The sight of him hitting himself made Martha chuckle under her breath. It was a humorous image.
Anita wore the same white blouse and cargo shorts she had on while greeting them at the bus stop. The only significant change being the pearl earrings that poked into her earlobes and the tint of pink lip stain.
Funerals in Colombia were different from American ceremonies. People didn't stand around a dug up hole wearing all black tie in rows of relatives and loved ones. They came from all walks of their daily life. From working hard 9 to 5 jobs and taking care of the house at home. When they arrived on the mountain top, many different people wore uniforms because they were on their lunch breaks.
A six foot trench wasn't made for a casket, they cremated their lost love ones. Because sadly, it was the cheaper option to be honored in an urn than in the ground. A catholic priest said a few words in his blue jeans and grey, loosely buttoned up shirt. And after, people went back to their lives. Though it was causal, it didn't lighten or alleviate the pain in their hearts.
They just understood, like Martha herself, that people live and they pass on. The concept was simple, but the lives they lived were not and that's what truly mattered.
Samuel stood beside Martha with his arm wrapped protectively around her back. He caressed her side with smooth, gentle sweeps, allowing her to lean against him. Martha made it her job to be there for her Aunt. She held tightly onto the strong woman's hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of it.
