Teodoro Luna

This story came to me at the writing retreat. The title, which is the name of my grandson-to-be, came from a poem by Alberto Rios. I thank him for the name. In English, it is "Theodore Moon", but in Spanish, which is the right way to say it, it is "Teodoro Luna"

TEODORO LUNA

I will have a grandson named Teodoro Luna. He has been in my heart from the beginning, but has come here by a circuitous route; though blood, sweat and tears are only a part of the story. People expected him to be a gringo, but I know his geneology and he belongs to California, to the fields in high summer, the golden hills of home; and he belongs to the silvery moon floating in the balmy sky.
I, his grandmother, know that what he wants from me are ways to make him laugh and wonder, and also to cook him something good for dinner. He will call me Nana, but also he will tease me and call me by my name, which he has heard his grandfather call me in exasperation; but always, he will say it, my little Teodoro, with kindness and the sound of little bells in his heart. He will sometimes remind me of memories I thought I had forgotten, and he will hold the pen in his hand, as we start to tell each other stories. Usually, he will ask me to sing.
We will sing little songs in our pajamas, and he will know the words by heart by the time he can speak in sentences.
In the back yard, he will learn the names of flowers. I know that he will like trees more than I do, but he will learn the names of flowers just to please me-- and he will remember which ones need a lot of water-- like hydrangeas and cinerarias. He will also know which ones the deer don't like to eat-- like yellow daisies and lavender. He will know this is a useful like of flower.
Do you think he will be more fond of cats or dogs, I ask myself? I think he will be a boy who loves his dog; and he will love running on the beach with his dog. Somehow he will always understand what the dog is thinking; and the dog will stand quietly waiting for him to be ready to go on their next adventure. Only people will make him impatient.
I think Teodoro will want to eat hot tortillas straight from the comal. He will like things that taste like butter; and I will sigh and say "You inherited that set of tastebuds from me". He will swim like a fish, and I will never worry about him being in water. I think it will take some doing to convince his mother not to worry about this.
The thing about grandchildren is that they are magical. You don't have to be their mother, to make schedules and rules for school and chores, and when to watch tv or read a book. You are allowed the luxury of imagination and play, and having a good time. The time can be quite elastic-- whole Saturday afternoons, even whole weekends during vacations.
Teodoro and I will drink hot chocolate in winter and homemade lemonade in summer. We will go pick fruit for making cobblers. We will take naps on the porch, and tell each other about our dreams.