Kiko and the lavender moon
Out playing - makes believe
Nobody can see
And then he waits
And then he fakes
And then he bends
And then he shakes
He plays and plays
Still playing till he
Goes off to sleep

Kiko and the lavender moon
Out dancing making faces at
A big black cat
And then he flies
Up to the wall
Stands on one foot
Doesn't even fall
Dance and dance
Still dancing till
He goes off to sleep

Growin up sometimes everyday was like wakin up and inhabiting a living dream. A cacophony of roosters crowing, sirens wailing in competitive response , and babies requesting more tapioca pudding with impatient pleas, all accompanied by the subtle sounds of a tuba or an accordion crying or laughing through a tinny sounding speaker. But for me it all blended and made me know that I was indeed home and that there was a world outside waiting to be explored. Step with me now into my dreamscape and let me share the most cherished of my days.

The back wall was my stage, I would jump up on it and run across keepin time with the music played by my uncles old radio as he sat and rolled up smokes and kept a furtive glance at me and my cousin at play. I would get a runnin start and leap over to the neighbors fence which had wood supports that were basically joined together 2x4’s and I would imagine I was on a tight rope as it would bend but miraculously never break as I made my way across unless the vecino interrupted my journey with a yell of my name as the neighborhood cats would sometimes stop and look at me with disgust like I was using their personal crossing point.

We would play and play in different combinations of cousins, or brothers and sisters but somehow that backyard and the magic it held was always my favorite place to use my imagination and create new worlds while sometimes learning lessons about the one I lived in. There was the framework of a room addition way out back that had long ago given way and surrendered itself to the ivy which covered its four walls and gave its roof the appearance of a hidden green forest retreat. It was the location of many secret meetings and hiding place for any contraband that might be confiscated because of parental misgivings. To get up there you had to climb up and make your way up in plain sight so this also meant you might have time to plan a hasty retreat or lose evidence of any unsanctioned activities. Guess if it was in the days of prohibition that woulda been our speakeasy because the older cousins when not wanting to be seen out in the calle with us mocosos would sometimes bring beverages wrapped in the finest of brown paper bags , leave interesting reading material with girls who had somehow misplaced their clothing or on occasion bring a girl in there to experience the ambience or should I say cop a feel in semi privacy.

The hill behind the house would be the place of many a sliding competition. We looked like inner city representatives of a bobsled training program as we would come screaming down that dry grass on cardboard tobaggans and sometimes crash land accompanied by a chorus of daaaaaayyyyyummmms and laughter. At one point someone took over the old house up on top of the hill and made it into a group home of some sort. This meant seein the occasional disheveled disoriented person rambling down the big hill talking to themselves about cocoa puffs or quantum physics, well ok so the cocoa puffs part I can confirm the physics portion of the eavesdropped convo was kinda convoluted but he sounded like he was on his way to a great breakthrough. I would stand up there on top of the hill and look out over the entire neighborhood and imagine it was my kingdom with a bevy of knights at my beck and call and fair maidens standing on their balconies. The knights roared through the roads of the kingdom on bikes not war horses and wore dickies and pendletons for armor and the maidens were adorned with necklaces that carried their names in the finest gold plated accoutrements that money could buy and it seemed like 2 out of 3 were named vero. It was all mine as far as the eye could see, as far as the ear could hear.

From the insomniac roosters to the dogs that would share their version of the days events by barking in call and answer sessions attended by everyone from lupita’s chihuahua cupcake to the two baddest boys the on the block the pits moco and tiny who were kept in a locked storage yard and protected it like they were guarding the federal reserve, maybe they were I don’t think anybody ever got close enuff to find out. Well without incurring bite marks.

There was always a sense of reality to my dream world though. It was marked by seeing a person one day and then the next day knowing you would never see them again because while I was busy trying to find new ways to defy gravity spinning and dancing with shadow partners under the light of the moon they were elsewhere slipping into the darkness and starting a long journey into the ether. I think that made me sort of take a mental picture of everyone I came across almost like I was photographing everything around me for safekeeping because I realized it was an ever changing landscape and that the neighborhood had a heartbeat and a pulse. It wasn’t just a place it was a living thing and we were all just various parts of it that made it come even more to life. The streets could be filled with life and cheer on some occasions, filled with trepidation at others or foreboding, or even a sense of sadness at times. You can think its crazy but I have walked on the pavement of a downtrodden calle when a vital part of its lifeblood was removed from it. All you had to do was sit there and listen and you could feel and hear what the street was saying or feeling. It had seen so much, generations come and go, new hopes and lost causes, in a place where time stood still for no man but where imagination could carry you up above the street lights if you would so choose.

These thoughts came to me watching my lil nephew doing a lil dance on a low brick wall and his mom yelling at him to come down from there because he was going to hurt himself so I go over and see his face in complete glee his full cheeks almost obstructing his eyes completely and ask him whatcha playin mijo and he looks at me with this glint and says im crossin over all those alleeeeygators down there tio! So I said well be careful and don’t fall in they look pretty hungry and whoooo they got big chompers too so watch ur steps ok and he proceeds to walk the length of the wall like he was born in a circus while giggling and howling at every avoidance of those angry alligators. His mom again told him to come down and I said no leave him hes ok im watching him and she said ok but you better keep a close eye on him. I did and I saw something I related to, a look in his eyes of a boy delighting in traveling the never ending paths of make believe.
 
It was the look seen before in the eyes of a little boy dancing in the moonlight in his neighborhood kingdom where anything was possible and the streets told stories, held secrets, and revealed the pulse of an entire people. It was a look the boy who is now a man still experiences to this day and lives with on a mission to never forget the magic of a time and place that forever lives and breathes within him until the day he someday dissolves into tiny particles carried by the wind who will set him down at rest on those same streets where he will once again become but one part of a unified heartbeat watching over a new generation of dreamers, thinkers, lovers, scoundrels, poets, artists, heroes, warriors, and keepers of the light as he lends substance again to the places that bestowed upon him so much of their own enchantingly rich life.

Gracias 4 readin these words n may ur path alwayz be blessed