CUMBIAS PARA HACER QUEHACER
By Maria Alondra Flores Valle
It is Saturday morning and I’m woken up by the sound of cumbia blasting throughout the house muffled by the four walls of the room. I instantly groan knowing that this signals a long day of cleaning ahead of me. As soon as this thought ends, mi mami bursts through the door with a broom in her hand. I pretend to be asleep only to have her mockingly calling me “La Bella Durmiente.”
I get out of bed, silently cursing her for making me get out of my bed to clean. I step out of the room and I’m bombarded by Los Angeles Azules’ cumbia melody. I can hear the maracas, the accordion, and the repeated phrase of “llorar, llorar, y llorar...” At this moment I’m the one who wants to “llorar” because I have to clean. I look up, rubbing my eyes, and see my mother dancing with the broom. The way her body moves is so fluid, so rhythmic, so smooth. I giggle because she looks silly dancing with the escoba. She looks up when she hears my giggle and her face breaks into a smile. She reaches her hand out signaling for me to take it. As soon as I do, I’m spun around and twirled. The song is now “Tiene Espinas el Rosal” by El Grupo Carnaval. I am in awe at how her hands and feet move to create one fluid, whole movement. I attempt to do the same but trip over my feet. My face gets hot from embarrassment. When I look up , I'm greeted with my mom’s lively, bright smile that I hadn’t seen in a long time. I smile up at her and grab her hand.
