Que Dios te Bendiga
by
Abigail Moreno Zavala
WRIT 1122: Rhetoric and Academic Writing | Professor Blake Sanz
WHEN I WAS SIX YEARS OLD, MY MOM ASKED ME TO PUT on a fluffy white dress and pinned on a sparkly crown to my head. I was being fussy, and I didn’t want to do anything but lie in my abuelita’s air-conditioned room watching cartoons. So she told me I was going to become a princess. And I believed her. All of us—my aunts, uncles, cousins, abuela, my mom, and I— packed into three cars and we drove to a giant church towards the center of the city. It was early. The sun was just rising from the horizon as a light breeze made my aunts and I huddle closer together. The birds chirped as we walked into the brightly lit church and through the creaky pews towards the far right side of the building. It felt like several hours had passed before my mom finally took my hand and guided me to the front of the church where the pastor stood next to a basin of holy water. He grabbed my face as he wiped the holy water on my forehead in the shape of a cross. I wasn’t receiving my first communion. I was becoming a princess. When I was nine years old, my mom took me to a church near our house and had me join their choir. I loved singing! Any chance I could get, I would sing. And, because my mom loved to hear me sing, joining the choir was something I’d gladly do for her. I mean, my 38
WRIT LARGE: 2020
