Call this Christmas Eve tradition what you will, the purpose of the path-lined faralitos/luminarias is to light the way for the Holy Family. The faralitos that lined our driveway, lit the way for guests to come inside from the 21 degree chill outside.
Rachel took a swig from the bottled water we each carried, wiped her lips, took a deep breath as she stared into the ancient kiva, and confessed, “I’m having a hard time finding faith that I can believe in.”
On a Good Friday I drove to Albuquerque. Thousands of the faithful walked north along Interstate 25. They sought the healing miracles of the sacred sands within the Santuario de Chimayo in the village of Chimayo, nestled in a valley, lined in cottonwoods and pastures within the Sangre de Cristo Mountains 24 miles (38.4 km) north of Santa Fe. From Albuquerque, the distance nears 80 miles, but the distance is unimportant to those who make this annual trek.
Dixon, New Mexico is home to historic acequias (irrigation ditches) that remain protected by the Treaty of Guadalupe Hildago, signed on February […]
Author’s Note: I changed his name to Philiberto for this story from a work in progress with the working title, “New Mexico […]
Ray was fun and easy to know. Regardless, his gayness in rural New Mexico wasn’t always well received. Ray was young and out. If you didn’t like his sexual proclivity, that was your problem. Not his. “I’m like a dragon,” he said. “Full of fire and not ashamed.”