Finding The Storyteller

Journal Entry #1

Sept. 2, 1929

I turned 16 today. I don't feel any different. I certainly don't look any different.
My black hair is straight and braided and my baby hairs tend to stick out if I don't slick it down with a lemon.
My face looks more oval shaped now that I'm looking harder. My eyes are almond shape, brown, and blessed with long dark lashes. My nose long and straight but with a small bump on the bridge like my grandpa but marked with 2 moles; one on each nostril. I have full lips like my father and my mom has no idea where I've gotten my straight teeth from. Jawline so sharp it can cut paper. My skin is tan because of working outside in the cotton fields with my parents from 6 a.m to 3 p.m. I'm 5'3 now and still as skinny as a pole which my family love to point out. Doesn't help that I can still fit into my little sisters clothes because clothes for girls my age don't fit me so well.

I walk into the kitchen where Mamí is scrambling eggs and smashing beans while the tortillas are heating on the stove. "Felíz Cumpleaños mi Elena!" my mother sang while I grabbed the plates to set the table. "Gracias Ma. Thank you." I responded. I don't like making a big fuss about my birthday. It's just a day like any other. I gave her a kiss and started to flip tortillas and set them on the table.

"Happy Birthday mi niña linda ! My pretty girl! Wow. You're 16 already.", my father boomed as he came into the kitchen. "Gracias Papá. It's not a big deal. It's just another number." I replied. "Tengo una sorpresa para ti. We have a surprise for you." he said. I close my eyes & opened them as soon as my mother and father yelled "SURPRISE!" Right in front of me is a new journal with an ink bottle and a quill. "Papá! I love it!" I exclaimed. Gazing at the journal which has a tan soft cover with thick paper on the inside and a string of fabric hanging from it to hold my writing place. I hugged my father and mother and gave them kisses. "You deserve it mija! You're going to become a writer. Believe me. Lo sé. I know it."
I serve my parents the food and sit with them and marveling over my new journal.
This year is going to be different. I can feel it.