Sanctuary

Her grandmothers adobe house had only one distinct bedroom. There was a kitchen where there was a door. On the other side of the house was another door that, although it seemed like a front door functioned more like a back door. In between was a hallway with the bedroom and then two other rooms, large, one with a bed and other one set up more like a living room.

She slept on the large bed in the room with two beds, and her uncle slept in the bedroom. She was there because she needed to know where her mother came from. She needed to know who she was and who she was going to be.

She woke up early and rummaged around some bookshelves. She found some photo albums. She could tell if any of the women in the pictures were her mother. She heard a strange noise outside. She’d heard it all night. Like a buzz.

She walked out towards a lone apple tree. She kept hearing a buzz. And then she found it. A cicada, a male, flapping its wings. She reached down for it. And it buzzed like electricity.

Zap!

“Weird,” she thought. The bug was big and ugly with big translucent wings.

Zap!

It flapped around. She knew lightening bugs from home. She’d never heard this before. She reached down and the bug climbed on her finger. She walked back toward the house.