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650 CHRISTIANITY AND LITERATURE Grandmother's Tongue: Inheritance Because she'sold and short and brown; because she walks the same route as those in cars and with heavy grocery bags gripped in steady wrists; because she'll put back the onion not on sale after all; because she's rich beyond wildest dreams and she's not telling; and because as beggar Christ gets turned away from fine men's doors, her appearance so often annoys those who cannot fathom the worth of an old immigrant lady. Once, within the fluorescent scene of a superstore, Grandmother and I shop for cloth. She asks a fabric cutter, Esa like this blue, pero, more strong: her request reaches a woman turning her eyes away; she huffsighs, says, Hold it. I need a translator. I don't speak that language. Stunned, I retreat commiserating, Can you believebut beside me, she saunters, arms over the bar of her cart. Some people's no happy, she says coolly, like she's spitting sunflower seeds, and offers a quick-eyed grin that slips into laughter, that rises like song as we leave. And we move through wide sliding doors that part just for us-two little Mexicans, inheriting the earth. L. E. HUIZAR ...


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