July 28, 2006 Dear Mari, It's going to be so strange to see you in Boston. I know we've talked on the phone, but I don't know. It's just going to be strange, that's all. It'll be the real goodbye, I guess, for now. Then you'll be in Mexico and who knows where I'll be.What I mean is things haven't been going well with the farm since your dad and uncles left. This summer has been so rainy, most of the seeds have just rotted in the ground. Dad's already calculating that he's going to have to buy a lot of grain he doesn't have the money to buy. Anyhow, that scary word is going around the house again, sell sell the farm, get out from under before the bank comes and takes it away anyhow. the farm, get out from under before the bank comes and takes it away anyhow.What's funny, well, not so funny, is that a year ago, I just wouldn't have accepted the idea of not living here. It kind of drove me crazy, if you want to know the truth. My parents had to ship me off to my aunt and uncle's just to get my mind off the worry.But now, I don't know. I still think this has to be one of the most beautiful places on earth-like you yourself said. But somehow, though the idea of not farming still makes me real sad, I can accept it a lot better. Maybe losing Gramps helped me practice losing? Or just knowing what you and your family have gone through makes me feel like it could be a lot worse. Also, I guess I'm seeing other sides that might be fun, like having more time for things I love besides farming. Maybe I'll end up being an astronomer or a meteorologist or maybe I'll study Spanish and travel to Mexico and help out all the farmers there so they don't have to leave their land.Anyhow, like Mom keeps telling me, life is about change, change, and more change. "When you're born as a child, you die as a baby. Just like when you're born as a teenager, you die as a child." Hey, Mom, thanks a lot! Sounds like our whole lives will be full of funerals, doesn't it?"But there are good sides even to bad or sad things happening," my mom reminds me. Like this fall, it'll be kind of sad not going back to Bridgeport. But a good thing'll be that I won't have to take the bus, since I can catch a ride with Mom because the middle school is right next to the high school where she teaches math."You've got to develop the habit of thinking positive," Mom's always telling Dad and me. That's why she started yoga and meditating, on account of the mind is a puppy we have to train. (I bet Luby will love hearing that!) I guess my mind's more like my dad's. But it's not like our minds aren't trained-they are! They just go after the sad stuff. Like those golden retriever police dogs we saw on TV, remember? They hunt down missing kids and even adults. Just give them a whiff of a T-shirt or a pair of pants, and they're off.But I'm definitely going to try to be positive in this goodbye letter that I want to give you before you leave. One really positive thing is how good it feels to be talking to you again, even though it's on paper, which I know you like to do, but I'm not so good at it. Another good thing is what Mr. Calhoun told Mom. How the judge at your dad's deportation hearing said he was going to drop all charges and send everybody back to Mexico and if your record stays clean, then in ten more years, when Ofie turns eighteen, she can come first as an American citizen and apply for her parents to get their papers!Ten years! In ten years, I'll be twenty-two! Old enough to be done with college, if I go to college-which Mom says is not an option: not going, that is. "In today's world ..." I know your parents are always telling you to study, study, study so you can end up with a better life than theirs.That's kind of sad, I know. Like your parents will never get to live the life they want. At least, my mom really loves teaching, and even Dad was real happy farming, until he had his accident. But farming's no fun anymore, he says, the way he's having to do it now, scrambling the whole time. Mom tells him how he has many more incarnations to go. Nothing wacky like reincarnation, just how he can live many other lives in this life. Why, with his experience he could be a field agent and help other farmers. He could do any number of things. Dad kind of sighs like Mom is being what he calls New Agey, but I think it does help him to think that his life won't close down if he has to sell the farm.Besides, what they are thinking of is not selling, but sort of leasing the whole farm to Uncle Larry. (He's like your uncle Felipe, except Uncle Larry isn't lucky and unlucky, just lucky. Like how not one of his six Mexicans was picked up.) Of course, we know what Uncle Larry means to do: turn our farm into part of his whole MooPoo operation. It's pretty amazing that collecting cows' poo can make a farmer rich but milking them won't! Well, Uncle Larry milks them, too. He's got all his bases covered. Nurseries and parks and fancy gardens buy up all his composted manure. Meanwhile, he sells the organic milk for top dollar.The way it'll work is, if one of us kids wants to farm in the future ("Don't look at me!" Sara says right off), we will be able to get the farm back from Uncle Larry. We'll just have to figure out what we owe him for improving the place. (I can't see how making a "manure product," what Uncle Larry calls it when he wants to sound fancy with people like Uncle Byron, is going to improve anything. But I guess Uncle Larry'll have to build a bunch of storage sheds and buy more equipment and stuff.) The best part about this plan is that we can stay living here. Plus, I'll get to keep Margarita! Maybe that's why it doesn't seem as awful as it once did, the idea of Dad quitting farming.I'll be seeing you tomorrow when we come down to say goodbye. Mom is driving because Dad can't spare the time off. I feel kind of bad, taking the weekend off, but Dad says, "Son, you've earned it." If I've earned it, so has he, but at least two people have to stay to do the milking, and Dad really only counts for a half with his bad hand. Ben offered to stay, and Corey's now working part- time when he can be spared from his other farm job. Dad's also had to hire two local guys "to almost make up for one Mexican," as he says, complimenting your uncles and dad.Anyhow, as I'll put on the envelope, I don't want you to read this until you've opened the box I'm bringing as my goodbye gift. By now you'll know what's in it! Yes, really and truly, I want you to keep it. For one thing, I'm asking Uncle Tony and Aunt Roxie for a stronger one for Christmas. They usually give me a big fancy gift then. And yes, I already asked Grandma, since it was a gift from Gramps, and she gave me her blessing, as she calls it. This way, Mari, when you look at the stars in Mexico, you can think of me looking up at some of the very same stars in Vermont. Only they'll be in different parts of the sky, but still.Grandma also says if the ICE agents won't let you take more luggage, she can bring stuff when she comes down next month with her church youth group. They've raised enough money and they're confirmed to go. Grandma invited me to come, but Mom told me privately that it was a stretch for Grandma to buy another ticket.Besides, Dad still really needs my help with the farm this summer. But by next summer if Uncle Larry's taken over, I won't have any ch.o.r.es! Another positive thing for my golden retriever mind to concentrate on. And by then, I'll be rich again from working for Mr. Rossetti for a whole year.That's all for now, Mari. Tomorrow I'll be seeing you at Aunt Roxie and Uncle Tony's. Maybe we can go to the planetarium at the science museum and look at your star through their real powerful telescope. It'll be awesome, a lot bigger than just a pinp.r.i.c.k of light.And, Mari, well, you know how you felt bad that I spent a whole lot of money buying that star? I didn't exactly buy it, because you can't really buy a star, you can only name it. And it doesn't cost anything unless you send away for a fancy certificate or pick a star visible without a telescope, which I'm willing to do for your next birthday. But what will we name it? Maybe instead of Mari Cruz, we'll use your whole name, Maria Dolores Cruz Santos, to go along with it being a bigger star?That reminds me. One last thing I want to do before we lease the farm to Uncle Larry: give it a name. Mom thinks it's a great idea. That way when we draw up the legal doc.u.ments with Uncle Larry, we can write down an actual name. "It'd be so sad to just call it one-hundred-and-ten-acres-with-frontage-on-Town-Line-Road," Mom says, and suddenly, there are tears br.i.m.m.i.n.g in her eyes. I guess there's some in mine, too. But naming it, I don't know, it'll be more ours somehow.Since you're so good with words, Mari, maybe you can help me with some ideas? Especially because I think a name in Spanish would be really cool. The same name in English wouldn't sound as special. The best I've come up with is Amigos Amigos Farm, but Sara says it's too blah-this from the one family member who can't wait to get off the farm. I think Farm, but Sara says it's too blah-this from the one family member who can't wait to get off the farm. I think amigo amigo is not her favorite word right now, as Mateo just left for Spain after his year in the States. And this time, instead of my sister dumping him, he told her that now that they were going to be an ocean apart, he just wanted to be is not her favorite word right now, as Mateo just left for Spain after his year in the States. And this time, instead of my sister dumping him, he told her that now that they were going to be an ocean apart, he just wanted to be amigos, amigos, friends. So, anyhow, friends. So, anyhow, Amigos Amigos Farm is on hold for now-until my sister finds a new boyfriend. Farm is on hold for now-until my sister finds a new boyfriend.But whether or not it's named Amigos, Amigos, as long as my family is on this land, it will be a place where you and your family will find friends. One thing I did learn from Mr. Bicknell this past year is that the only way we're going to save this planet is if we remember that we are all connected. Like the swallows. How when they leave here in a month they'll be on their way to where you are. as long as my family is on this land, it will be a place where you and your family will find friends. One thing I did learn from Mr. Bicknell this past year is that the only way we're going to save this planet is if we remember that we are all connected. Like the swallows. How when they leave here in a month they'll be on their way to where you are.If it can work for barn swallows, it should work for us. Like we learned from Ms. Swenson, our teacher the year before you came. Something the Hopi elders told their tribe during really hard times: how certain things needed to get done if they were going to survive. How they couldn't put it off. How there was no one else but them to do it. "We are the ones we have been waiting for," that's what the elders told the Hopi people.You and me, Mari, it's up to us. We are the ones who are going to save this planet. So we've got to stay connected-through the stars above and swallows and letters back and forth. And someday, you will return, Mari. Like Mr. O'Goody said, he's putting a special letter in your parents' file. Meanwhile, I'll be coming to visit you in Las Margaritas. For one thing, I've got to see the town I've named my show calf after.Adios, amiga, and I guess I don't have to tell you to write back. and I guess I don't have to tell you to write back.

Your friend forever,Tyler August 19, 2006 Dear Tyler, I've gotten up extra early to write you, as Grandma and Mr. Rossetti and the church group will be leaving in a few hours. They weren't supposed to go until next week. But when they found out we are having elections for our governor tomorrow, they decided to advance their departure and leave today. Papa thinks it's best as otherwise they might get caught in the middle of a lot of strikes and protests, and we have been having a lot of them.It started with our big national elections on July 2nd. (I know, two days before your country's birthday!) Everybody's favorite candidate here in Las Margaritas lost, but not by much. Right away, people began saying the winner stole the election, and they wanted all the votes counted again, but the government refused."Why, that's just like our 2000 election!" your grandma said."Nonsense!" Mr. Rossetti disagreed. "Our president got elected fair and square."Everyone just watches when they have their arguments. Mostly, people here are astonished that two old people would come to our town to work. "Esos viejitos "Esos viejitos should be home taking care of themselves!" should be home taking care of themselves!""We're not viejitos!" viejitos!" Grandma says when I translate. She does not like to be called old people. Grandma says when I translate. She does not like to be called old people.Of course, Mr. Rossetti has a different opinion. "Elsie, you just won't face reality, will you? You'll die young at a hundred-after you've killed us all off, to be sure."He grumbles a lot but I think he has been having a wonderful time. Luby and Ofie won't let him out of their sight. Meanwhile, Abuelito has come down any number of times to visit el viejito americano. el viejito americano. He and Abuelote sit around "talking" with Mr. Rossetti, which is funny to watch, because Abuelito and Abuelote don't speak any English, and Mr. Rossetti doesn't understand Spanish. They all just jab the air with their canes and gesture and nod at whatever one of them is saying. He and Abuelote sit around "talking" with Mr. Rossetti, which is funny to watch, because Abuelito and Abuelote don't speak any English, and Mr. Rossetti doesn't understand Spanish. They all just jab the air with their canes and gesture and nod at whatever one of them is saying.So, on account of our election day tomorrow, everyone is predicting trouble. Big strikes like they are having in Mexico City and in the state next to ours, Oaxaca. Not just protests, like you had last spring for immigrant rights in Washington, D.C. I mean millions of people camped out in the main square for weeks on end, blocking the entrance to government buildings, and even the road to the airport. Papa actually gets very excited and says that maybe Mexico will finally become a place where people like him can stay and work and raise their families.One of the good things about moving is getting my old Papa back! I was worried when he was released at the airport that being put in prison would make him even more bitter and angry. But finding so many friends who helped him, and your aunt and uncle who took us in and didn't charge us a penny, touched his heart. "There are good people in this world," he said to Mama on the plane to Mexico. "Angels," he said, sort of smiling to himself. Maybe he was remembering how your mother called us Mexican angels when we first got to the farm a year ago almost to the day-I just realized!Papa has woken up-most everyone is still sleeping after our goodbye party last night. When he sees me writing, he asks who the letter is for. I hesitate because, well, you know how he is about me and boys. But before I can say your name, he says, "Ese es un hombresito bueno." "Ese es un hombresito bueno."So, you see, Tyler, Papa really does like you. You are the only boy he's called a good young man since I turned twelve and became a senorita. senorita. Even my boy cousins he doesn't trust. It's so silly, but Mama says it's the way she and Papa were raised. And after what happened to her ... Even my boy cousins he doesn't trust. It's so silly, but Mama says it's the way she and Papa were raised. And after what happened to her ...I know he feels bad about the way he treated you after Mama's return. But like I told Mr. O'Goody, Papa just wasn't himself back then. He also worries about the money he owes you. In fact, he wanted Grandma to take your telescope back to you. "It is too much," he explained.But Grandma refused. "Tell your father that you don't give back presents!"I do think it was overly generous, Tyler. Just like I think it was so special of you to name a star after me, even if it was free. I actually feel better knowing I don't own it. Like you told me about the American Indians, how they didn't really believe people could own the land. How can you own a star?! (Don't you love interrobangs?!)I'm also very glad I won't have to return the telescope. I just love looking through it-and so does the whole town! Papa jokes that if I charged admission each time a neighbor came by to look at the stars through my magic gla.s.s, he could be well on his way to paying back his debt to you. Five hundred dollars is a lot of money here- more than some of our neighbors earn in a year. But Papa will pay you back, Tyler, even if it's ten years from now when Ofie can sponsor him. When your grandmother arrived, Papa asked me to tell her that he would return to work on your farm for free till the debt was paid off.So I had to tell him the whole situation you had explained to me. "Papa, the Paquettes won't be farming anymore."Papa sighed. That old tiredness was back in his eyes. "We have suffered the same fate," he said quietly. "Such good people," he added. "Life is not fair."It's sad to hear your parents say something like that. I guess just like you said about your father (and yourself), Papa sees more sadness in the world than happiness."But we can change that," I told him, trying to be positive for both our sakes. We had been watching television, the crowds of campers in Mexico City demanding that the government make their country a place they could live in. "We can make things more fair, Papa. We have to do it because there's no one else to do it if we don't."A strange look came over Papa's face. It was like he suddenly realized I wasn't a little girl anymore. Oh, I know he's always telling me I'm the oldest who has to watch over my sisters. Or I'm now a young lady who has to be guarded against young men who'll try to take advantage. But right then and there, he understood. I was growing up into someone he might even look up to!Not only is Papa happier, but Mama, too. Being around their family and in their homeland has been good for them both. Papa is involved now in the local politics-that's how come he knew so much about the elections coming up on Sunday and could advise Grandma.Ofie and Luby are doing better, but the first two weeks were very hard for them. They couldn't get used to speaking Spanish the whole time and missing out on all their TV programs. Also, they have to help Mama with a lot of housework. Here, we can't just have the washing machine do the laundry. We have to gather kindling to cook because electricity costs so much and often there are blackouts. We have to plant the beans if we want burritos and make our own tortillas from cornmeal. After the first week of thinking it was fun to do all these things, now they just say, "I don't want to!" Well, especially Ofie, and Luby copies everything. But I have kept my promise, and I only fight about once a day with Ofie."You can't make me," she always says when I ask her to help out. "I have rights. I'm an American citizen!"Papa overheard this exchange the other day, and he put his hands on his hips and said, "Americanita, "Americanita, when we were in your country, we had to work. Now you're in ours, and you have to work in return!" when we were in your country, we had to work. Now you're in ours, and you have to work in return!"It was the funniest thing he could have said, but I tried not to laugh because I didn't want to start another fight with Ofie.We are all going to be even more homesick once Grandma and Mr. Rossetti leave! Mama has promised us that we will go back. "When?" Ofie wants to know."As soon as we can do so legally," Mama promises. She paid too high a price for crossing illegally this last time. She has promised me that when I am more grown- up, she will tell me the whole story. "And someday when you are a famous writer, you can put it into a book." She smiles at the future she imagines for her daughter who is always writing letters or writing in her diary.It's Papa who is not so sure he wants to go back (except to pay his debt to you). He says if this country improves, he wants to stay put. But he'd love for my sisters and me to study and become professionals and live in the United States. For a while, anyhow. Eventually, he wants us to come home. "This has been our land for generations," he says, picking up a handful of soil and sifting it through his fingers.But it's different for Ofie and Luby, and even for me. Like what you said about the swallows, Tyler. Las Margaritas is our home, but we also belong to that special farm in the rolling hills of Vermont.Which leads me to your request about what to name the farm. Actually, I've asked the whole family for their suggestions. Papa voted for the name Amigos Amigos Farm. Mama pondered for a minute, then said, maybe Farm. Mama pondered for a minute, then said, maybe Buenos Amigos Buenos Amigos Farm, so it's the Good Friends Farm. I was sure that Luby would suggest some kind of dog name, but she voted for Ofie's suggestion: the Three Marias Farm! Farm, so it's the Good Friends Farm. I was sure that Luby would suggest some kind of dog name, but she voted for Ofie's suggestion: the Three Marias Farm!"But it's not ours," I pointed out. "Plus, it's kind of conceited to put our names on the Paquettes' farm.""It is not!" Ofie disagreed.It is too! I thought, but I didn't say so as we'd had several fights that day already.Last night, the farm's name came up again. It was after the big farewell party at our house. Papa roasted a whole pig, which is what people here do when they want to really celebrate. We'd invited all the neighbors who've been the host families for the kids in the youth group. We ate and ate and then everyone took a turn looking through my telescope. It was one of the highlights of the party. In fact, as the night wore on, people began seeing the most amazing constellations. Mariano, who is like our town drunk and shows up at every party, claimed he saw the Virgin of Guadalupe in the sky! Everybody was having such a nice time, they didn't want to leave. Finally, Tio Felipe began playing Wilmita, and we sang "La Golondrina" "La Golondrina" as a way of bidding everyone good night. as a way of bidding everyone good night.Afterward, the family sat outside, looking up at the stars with our own eyes. Mr. Rossetti and Grandma were also there, as they are staying with us, and Abuelito, as it was too late for him to travel home. We were sitting outside, feeling tired, the happy kind of tired, but also a little sad with the goodbyes in the air. "I do believe," Mr. Rossetti observed, "that we can see more stars here than back home."It was true, there seemed to be more and more stars, the more we looked. Then out of the blue, Grandma asked, "What's the word for star in Spanish?""Estrella!" Ofie and Luby called out together, feeling very proud of themselves for remembering. Ofie and Luby called out together, feeling very proud of themselves for remembering."How about Estrella Estrella Farm?" Grandma suggested. Farm?" Grandma suggested."I think it's an American farm and should have an American name, Elsie," Mr. Rossetti disagreed. "No offense," he said to his hosts, who didn't understand what he'd said anyhow."Oh, Joseph." Grandma sighed. But it was too late for a disagreement, even a mild one."I've got an even better idea," Mr. Rossetti went on, encouraged by Grandma's giving in. "How about Stars and Stripes Farm?" Even though I couldn't see his face real clear, I knew Mr. Rossetti was grinning. "That's our name for our flag in the United States," he told Abuelote and Abuelito. They nodded-"Si, si, si"-even though I don't think they had a clue what Mr. Rossetti was talking about.I thought about what Mr. Rossetti had said, and I kind of respected his opinion. You do have a great country, Tyler, why else would so many of us want to go there? But I got to thinking about all the things Mr. Bicknell had said, about us having to be not just patriots of a country, but citizens of the planet. So why not give the farm a name for the things that connect us?"Stars and Swallows Farm," I said, trying the name out loud. "Estrellas y Golondrinas." "Estrellas y Golondrinas."That name sounded perfect right then. But you know how you said your own family will agree on a name and then a few days later think better of it? Well, this morning, Stars and Swallows Farm sounds like a lot of words. So now I'm not real sure what to suggest, Tyler. Maybe your farm is just too special for words-and that's why your family has had a hard time naming it?Too bad Mr. Bicknell won't be your teacher anymore. He would come up with a creative a.s.signment for everyone in cla.s.s to suggest a name and write a story why. Then, like in a democracy, everyone would vote.Last night, I didn't take a vote, but everyone seemed to like Stars and Swallows. We sat quietly savoring the name like it was a taste in our mouths. Stars and Swallows. Estrellas y Golondrinas. Estrellas y Golondrinas."In a few weeks, they'll be back," Abuelote broke the silence. It took me a second to realize what he was talking about."We wait and wait," Abuelota agreed. "And our hearts are not complete till we see those golondrinas golondrinas coming back, filling the sky." coming back, filling the sky.""As numerous as stars," Abuelito observed.I knew then how much my grandparents had missed us, how a part of their very own hearts had been missing until now. How we were the ones they had been waiting for.We all grew quiet again, looking up, feeling the specialness of this night before we would fly apart.

Tu amiga, para siempre and forever, too, and forever, too,Mari

Dear readers, queridos lectores, queridos lectores,

Although this is a made-up story, the situation it de-scribes is true. Many farmers from Mexico and Central America are forced to come north to work because they can no longer earn a living from farming. They make the danger-ous border crossing with smugglers called coyotes, coyotes, who charge them a lot of money and often take advantage. To keep out these migrants, a wall is being built between Mexico and the United States. National troops have been sent down to pa-trol the border. We are treating these neighbor countries and migrant helpers as if they were our worst enemies. who charge them a lot of money and often take advantage. To keep out these migrants, a wall is being built between Mexico and the United States. National troops have been sent down to pa-trol the border. We are treating these neighbor countries and migrant helpers as if they were our worst enemies.

These migrant workers often bring their families with them. Their children, born in Mexico, are also considered "illegal aliens." But those born here are United States citizens. These families live in fear of deportation and separation from each other.

In 2006, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE, or la migra, la migra, as the migrants call these agents) raided many workplaces. This dragnet was known as Operation Return to Sender, after the phrase stamped by the United States Postal Service on letters that don't have enough postage or are incorrectly addressed. Workers without legal papers were taken away on the spot, leaving behind children who were cared for by friends, relatives, or older siblings. These children are the casualties of their parents' decision to leave behind their homelands in order to survive. as the migrants call these agents) raided many workplaces. This dragnet was known as Operation Return to Sender, after the phrase stamped by the United States Postal Service on letters that don't have enough postage or are incorrectly addressed. Workers without legal papers were taken away on the spot, leaving behind children who were cared for by friends, relatives, or older siblings. These children are the casualties of their parents' decision to leave behind their homelands in order to survive.

Caught in a similar struggle in this country are the children of American farmers who are finding it increasingly difficult to continue farming. They cannot find affordable help and have to resort to hiring farmers displaced from other lands. The children of both are seeing the end of a way of life and the loss of their ancestral homes.

When a Mexican dies far away from home, a song known as "La Golondrina" "La Golondrina" ("The Swallow") is sung at the funeral. The song tells of a swallow that makes the yearly migration from Mexico to ("The Swallow") is sung at the funeral. The song tells of a swallow that makes the yearly migration from Mexico to El Norte El Norte during the late spring and returns south in autumn. But sometimes that swallow gets lost in the cold winds and never finds its way back. This is the fear of those who leave home as well as those who stay behind awaiting their return. The song reminds us that we all need a safe and happy place where we belong. during the late spring and returns south in autumn. But sometimes that swallow gets lost in the cold winds and never finds its way back. This is the fear of those who leave home as well as those who stay behind awaiting their return. The song reminds us that we all need a safe and happy place where we belong.

With hope and esperanza, esperanza, Julia Alvarez

A word about the Spanish in English Una palabra sobre el espanol en ingles I know it must seem strange that Mari is often writing her letters in Spanish but you are reading them in English.

Just the same, when she reports on a conversation with her father or mother or uncles, these relatives are speaking in Spanish, but wait a minute! You are hearing them in English.

This is the wonderful thing about stories. The impossible is possible. You can read a story about a samurai warrior or two Italian teenagers with warring families or a Danish prince whose father has died mysteriously and be totally at home in their world even though you don't speak a word of their language. It's why I love stories. There are no borders. Like swallows, like stars, you don't have to stop where one country or language or race or religion or gender or time period ends and another begins.

But just in case you wondered, one of the ways we recognize that a word belongs in another language, otra lengua, otra lengua, is that we put it in italics. So, whenever one of Mari's letters begins in italics with a Spanish date is that we put it in italics. So, whenever one of Mari's letters begins in italics with a Spanish date (15 agosto 2005) (15 agosto 2005) and salutation and salutation (Queridisima Mama (Queridisima Mama) or she writes Mexico Mexico with an accent, you will know that it is actually being written in Spanish. But don't worry. Because this is a story, you can understand her Spanish as if you were a native speaker. with an accent, you will know that it is actually being written in Spanish. But don't worry. Because this is a story, you can understand her Spanish as if you were a native speaker.

Also, whenever I use a Spanish word, I always give you its English translation or make sure you understand what the word means in that scene. I wouldn't want you to feel left out just because you are not yet bilingual! But my hope is that what you can do magically in a story, understand Spanish, will make you want to learn that magic in real life. Being bilingual is a wonderful way to connect ourselves with other countries and people and understand what it means to live inside their words as well as their world.

So, for now, welcome to Spanish in English, and may it inspire you to learn the language of Spanish in espanol. espanol.

Acknowledgments

I hereby name the stars on the following pages after all of you who helped me write this book.

You know who you are, my stars.

Thank you!

Gracias!