2025 Fall Writing Frenzy Contest

People think we’re wild about Halloween, because of this display in our yard. Our “miracle” — my little brother’s word for ‘marigold’ garden, is for our grandmother. I wasn’t a fan of a whole garden of marigolds, but every year, out came the seed packets, soil, trays, and grow lights. 

“Why not roses, Abuelita?” 

“Why not these, Nieta?”

“Roses smell better! Roses are bigger!”

“Roses have thorns, but marigolds have power! These flowers bring me home.”

“Like in Mexico, Abuelita?”

“Si. So much sun! Not like here.”

“But, why not plant something new, or lots of different flowers?”

“All together these are powerful like the sun. They call our ancestors to us with their scent and beauty. One day, I will be gone. Then you will know. Harvest the seeds to begin again. Plus, it’s cheap!”

That was my Abuelita! Papi said she died with a monkey on her back. I think the monkey was all those hospital bills! Even now, she tends her garden in spirit; her watering can in hand, as pure blue as the Mexican sky.