I’d been warned that it wouldn’t be easy to go digging up the dead. I had some new coffins with me, because I’d also been warned the old coffins would be in pieces by now. It was a good thing I’d remembered to ask Don Amancio for the new ones. And it was a good thing I remembered to ask him for a sturdy shovel too. I got there early because there’s not much a person can do when the sun is beating down on them. It was still night when I arrived, but it wasn’t so cold under that moonless sky. The moon doesn’t show its face much around here. It was almost like working with my eyes closed at the start, by the meager light of the stars, but I knew the sun would be up soon and then I’d be able to see better. Meanwhile, there I was with the shovel, next to my mother’s grave. I didn’t want to go rooting around in someone else’s space so I was careful to find the right spot. That set me back longer than I thought it would, but I was still feeling hopeful. I had the wagon Don Amancio had gotten me. And Jumento, my new donkey. And having them felt almost like sanctuary. It’s true there was no light, no moon, just our same old barren sky, but I had the wagon and I had my donkey and on top of that I had a good shovel and the two shiny coffins I’d asked for. That was enough for me. I didn’t care anymore about what my mother or her dead had to say. The rest of them would just have to stay put and wait. All I could think about now was leaving to look for my Lina, just me and my things. I wasn’t even upset about giving up the house anymore. The point is, it was still dark as I went over to my mother and father’s graves, when I told them it was time for us to go. But the first shovelfuls tested all my resolve. I was alone. The dark sky winked with what little light it had to offer. I’d have to settle for that. Your eyes get used to it after a while, anyway. Digging up mother took more than two hours. I talked to her the whole time, gently, so she wouldn’t get angry. I told her: I’m sorry to come and disturb you like this, mother, but tomorrow we’re leaving and I have no choice but to get you out now. And so I kept talking and digging and as the sky started to brighten I could see there was no coffin left. The earth had devoured it. My mother was nothing but bones in a hole in the ground. I took her out bone by bone, carefully putting her in her new coffin. Then I fastened the coffin with rope and heaved her up onto the wagon. By the time I finished with mother, I didn’t think I had it in me to dig up father. I looked at my donkey: I don’t have it in me, I confessed. Not for digging up father, not for going anywhere at all. But there was no turning back, seeing as I’d already promised the house to Don Amancio. The whole thing started to seem like a terrible idea. I don’t know how the hell I got myself mixed up in all this mess. My donkey looked at me with those enormous eyes of his and didn’t say a word. I heaved a sigh, slung my shovel over my shoulder, and got to work on the next grave.
I took father out bone by bone too. He was the same as mother, the coffin rotted away. They must have been pleased, those two, to have gone one after the other like they did. There had always been such pride in their eyes when they looked at each other. That was the one thing they never lacked. Every day, they fell asleep and woke up at the same time, as if they were a single person. And seeing each other again each morning gave them so much joy. The days could have been of feast or famine, it didn’t matter. Just opening their eyes and finding themselves still together seemed to be enough. Father’s eyes started to fade as soon as mother got sick. And when mother died and father came back from the burial, he went to sleep and never woke up. We buried him the next day, in the grave beside hers. It was a comfort to know they could sleep side by side down in the earth too. And now I had them with me, on this narrow wagon. They only just fit, one on top of the other. It was a relief, knowing I could take them with me, together.
Don Amancio and his daughter came to see me off. They helped load my things onto the wagon, around the coffins. Not long after setting out, I turned back to look at the house. Amancio was still standing there, next to the door. He raised his hat. I responded in kind. Then I looked at the way ahead and said to my donkey: come on, Jumento, let’s go find Lina.
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From All That Dies in April by Mariana Travacio, translated from the Spanish by Will Morningstar and Samantha Schnee. Published by World Editions in September 2025.
