″‘My great-grandmother, Bisabuela Beatriz...’
That was when I began to think of her as my Bisa Bea. And I wanted her picture.
‘Hey, Mama, can I keep the picture? It’s so pretty. She’s like a doll. Can I keep it?‘”
“I thought of stuffing the picture into my pants pocket, but it wouldn’t fit. Only when I got to know Bisa Bea better did I learn the truth. She doesn’t like girls in pants or shorts, not even nice ones. She thinks they’re boys’ clothes. Sometimes she has the strangest ideas.”
″‘I love these old photographs. I collect them. This one is especially nice. Who is it?’ she asked.
‘My great-grandmother.’
‘Of course. I should have guessed. You look so much alike. Anyone looking carefully would realize it. Your face is the same shape, you’ve got the same pointy chin- you’re a perfect copy.‘”
“His great-grandmother was sitting by a huge open fireplace where logs and peat were burning. The room smelled of woods and wood-smoke. He forgot about her being frighteningly old. She had short silver curls and her face had so many wrinkles...”