Maria Elena

Maria Elena, who potted the plants I keep here in this special window, is buried outside under the mesquite tree. If you stand here you can look through the window and see the tree. I like to imagine that Maria Elena is watching her plants grow. She would know that the crepe myrtle is blooming its blood red blossom for her.

She was precise. You can see that in the neat pattern of holes she made in the bottom of this coffee can. And this plant here – it sits on a plate her granddaughter made in kindergarten. It says “To Grandmother from Rosa Linda.”

When Rosa Linda comes to see me now, she comes here, to these plants, to this window, to see her grandmother. I, too, come here to this window. I bring my coffee in the morning and say hello to Maria Elena. She gets me going. She keeps me going. I miss her, but she is here, too, like she never left.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “Maria Elena.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

2 thoughts on “Maria Elena”

  1. Mirella’s cousin, Maria Elena, was a gossip, and that’s why she didn’t want to associate with her. She was always in everyone’s business and, worst of all, giving non-solicited advice. Annoying? Yes. Impertinent? Most definitely!

    The blessing in disguise arrived when her family decided to move to Florida. Now Mirella spelled relief—M-a-r-i-a E-l-e-n-a.

  2. “Maria Elena!”
    The name was announced and the crowd went wild.
    Thunderous applause greeted the star singer as she strode confidently across the stage and grabbed the mike from a visibly mesmerized master -of -ceremonies.
    She started crooning into the mike, threw her head, her black mane billowing.
    All was suddenly quiet. The crowd swayed to the rhythm, as if in a trance…

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