My father called early on the Tuesday of that week and told me, "Hija, voy pa ya. Te veo en seis horas." Typical of my father. Always spontaneous. Even at his ripe age of 65. The open road, driving for hours, he is no stranger to these things. He was a truck driver for many years. He would sometimes drive fifteen hours straight. "Los Barrios son buen choferes," he would proudly say with a slight tilt of his head. Then a hearty laugh would rise from his belly and his beautiful smile would send stars into the universe.
My father is my friend. I would even vouch to say he is my soul mate. So, naturally, we stayed in bed that afternoon and I read to him. I read to him Athualpa. He loved it. Was inspired, just as I was. We would pause at a line and marvel at it. He then proceeded to tell me many stories. One in particular will stay with me forever. He said that once, he was driving through the Mexican Sierras, and as he descended from a high ridge in his truck, he saw a vast canyon. The most beautiful landscape he has ever seen. He told me that at that moment, the landscape penetrated his eyes, consumed him, and became part of his soul.
I decided to make a lantern depicting Athualpa's wind. The curious gift-giver, leaving traces of magic and stories scattered throughout the Pampas. The medium is paper, burnt with a wood burner and decorated with soft pastels. It gives off a magical, ethereal light. I think if looks as my soul did, imagining my father as a young boy, praising the earth and God.
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