The Story of Tonight [Izars/Open]

We’ve never been a wealthy family. Our baserri sits out a ways from the town center, far enough to let a man measure himself on the walk. Sprawling fields are empty now, but soon enough we’ll till the rows and fill them with seed for stalks of corn, golden branches of wheat, and sections of cabbage. I’ve worked the same fields as my father, his father, and his father, too – a family that knows truth grows through hard work, persistence, and faith. Emma spoke the truth: we have not been burdened with hate, but emboldened in love: for one another, for our family, for this place.

I reckon it’s the same love that has pushed this campaign from a wisp of a dream to reality. Marisol, brave enough to sing praises of me to a peacekeeper. Emma, standing on stage speaking with such strength I wondered if she shouldn’t have been the candidate instead of me. Romana and Lordes, pressing strangers and friends to vote Izar, their way with words getting folks to whisper to one another and nod, and think about the district’s future. Alfer and Abdiel’s pamphlets, free of my own misspellings, handed out from the hands of little Yani. I marveled at Alfonso’s artwork – splashy images that spoke to his talent, but so too was it his passion. Little Sebastian and Apala walking with volunteers, along the dark roads to houses lit by candlelight.

There was guilt – asking for their time, their energy. For something that would put a title in front of my name, and raise us all but bring a heavier hand of scrutiny against us. By the starlight above, I say a little prayer in thanks, and for protection. I couldn’t escape that part of this was for me, asking them to sacrifice. Only I am filled with pride at all of them. Quisieron enterrarnos, pero se les olvido que somos semillas¹. The Izars have seen hardship, but have risen above because of one another.

Along the edges of the field I’ve set out folding chairs, and in the center, a circular enclosure for a great stack of wood. Coolers filled with bottles of beer, and others with darker liquors (and clear moonshine, too). Two old and rusted metal grills filled with coal, smoking now, ready for the meat to sizzle across it. Along the chairs are sets of bracelets – black beads strung together with twine – little keepsakes for all that they’ve done. It’s not much, not anything at all but, at least it’s something to connect them all together.

I watch the fire lick up toward the sky, the bonfire beginning to burn. I’m already lucky – for all that I’ve received. No matter the outcome, I couldn’t forget that. Tonight we could celebrate our work, and hopefully soon, a brighter future.

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^{1. They tried to bury us, but did not know we are seeds.
"The Story of Tonight" - Hamilton}