On another visit they played the game of “la Loteria,” a kind of Mexican bingo that doña Felicia brought with her one day, making Loca laugh with all the little Spanish limericks that went along with calling out each card, like for El Gallo, for instance, the caller would say “¡Como el que le canto a San Pedro!”, and things like that. Each played with three cards to better her odds and Loca beat the nun two out of three.

One early evening, just as the sky blazed orange, then red, then became purple like fire, the nun sang very softly for La Loca and put her to sleep. Although Loca liked the song, which was about a woman who had been left by her French soldier lover, she had never heard a fado before. The nun said that kind of song came from a faraway land called Portugal.

Loca went to sleep in the Lady’s arms thinking that for a person who had lived her whole life within a mile radius of her home and had only traveled as far as Albuquerque twice, she certainly knew quite a bit about this world, not to mention beyond, too, and that made her smile as she closed her eyes.

16

Sofia Founds and Becomes la First President a of the Later-to-Become World-Renowned Organization M.O.M.A.S.; and a Rumor Regarding the Inevitability of Double Standards Is (We Hope) Dispensed With

Sofi buried La Loca, or what was left of the body (it would be no exaggeration to say in this case the “remains”), in the camposanto of the Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe where her parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, great-great-grandparents, great-great-great-grandparents, great-great-great-great-grandparents, and their children, or at least, most of them, all lay to rest. Fe’s urn was there and Esperanza and Caridad were there too, although in spirit and without headstones.

In the years to come, la pobre Sofia—encouraged not only by vecinos and comadres, but by the hundreds of petitions she received in the mail everyday, asking for prayers from the mother of the little crazy saint who died twice and her similarly ethereal sisters—became the founder and la first presidenta of what would later be known worldwide as the very prestigious (if not a little elitist) organization M.O.M.A.S., Mothers of Martyrs and Saints.

Furthermore, by then, it would be pretty evident that contrary to what people said during Sofi’s thifty-eight-year presidency (appointments, like to the board of M.O.M.A.S., were for life, like judges), that you had to be the mother of a daughter to even be considered, it would eventually be about fifty–fifty. That is, there was an equal portion of male and female santos and martires represented by las M.O.M.A.S.; and by the middle of the new century, quite a few mothers of men were getting in with ease.