New Year’s Day asada in our house yesterday. I told of hearing celestial singing as I drank coffee with my husband early on New Years Eve day.(story to follow in next blog post!) Immediately my mother-in-law had a story.
“I woke up at 3 AM one night, hearing children playing outside the window. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I just heard children’t voices and laughter. I went outside to tell them it was time to go home and there wasn’t a soul in sight.”
Carmen looked around the table where Carlos’ father Silvano, Carlos, the girls and I sat expectantly with our beef tacos.
“Duendes,” she said.
Elves! I was not surprised. Carla sees or feels them in the trees along the river to the left of the highway to Dolores Hidalgo. During the basketball season, we drive over to Dolores every Saturday for Carlos’ games and Carla scans the treeline for duendes.
I tell my mother- and father-in-law about having my ankle grabbed by an unknown entity at 5:15 a.m.the other morning.
“You know what that means,” Carmen says knowingly.
No, I don’t! Enlighten me!
Carmen held up her hand, her thumb and forefinger separated by several inches, gripping an imaginary stack of bills.
“I’m supposed to find the treasure?” I asked.
Carmen nodded her head. She is not the first to have mentioned this theory. After my first post about being woken by the spirit ankle-squeezer, I got this reply from Mexican blogger Leslie Limon, who is also married to a Mexican man. (http://www.motherhoodinmexico.com/)
If you don't mind me adding my two centavos, Hubby's family believes that if you are visited by a spirit/ghost, it's because there is money or treasure buried somewhere near you and they want you to find it. Next time your visitor is around, ask where the treasure is? :)
OK, Spirit, I’m ready! I'm leaving my ankles at the bottom of the bed for more messages. It would be lovely if you could pinchingly point out where the bag of gold is hidden. It occurs to me though, that there is no bag of money on our land or hidden in our walls because we built our house (it’s half built anyway) from scratch. Shrubs were removed, land was turned over, walls were constructed. Nothing was turned up unless it was and some albanil made off with our rightful treasure! Then it occurs to me too that the treasure is us, the Ortega family, sitting around a table full of food, swapping stories.
Can’t a little elf just show up, whisper in my ear and tell me if I’m right? Or pinch my ankle.
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