Sofia Aguilar
Sofía Aguilar is a Chicana writer and library professional based in Los Angeles. Her work has appeared in the L.A. Times, Refinery29 Somos, and New Orleans Review, among other publications. She is the author STREAMING SERVICE: golden shovels made for tv, STREAMING SERVICE: season two, and amor.
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Check out her website. ​​
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GOOD DAYS​
mama always calls sonoma countie the boonies because i
am so far north that i could create my own country & no one down south knows its name. still, i will try to tell you about where i've been. in the mornings, i listen to the chorus of bullfrogs born burping, swelling with song. i keep
count of their own croaks. one. two. from
there, i follow the shepherded sheep on the hill, the mustard weeds losing their root-deep grip. so much yellow & years to undo. but the
poppies are smaller & shyer, orange quietly peeking out. i stand still to rest. look, amor, look at those skies, how much they're made of
multicolored streaks. blue, pink, red. i want those colors for myself.
i want to tell you about the gobbled call of turkeys, how i
climb this mountain each morning to shower & shiver & worry
when i can’t find my way back with a four-pointed star. that
the crickets have taught me their song even though it's been years since i sang with my tongue or learned a lesson from those wasted
years. i wish you were here. that the windows didn't frost at night. but the truth is, i feel different in a good way. i notice everything. this is where i get my best
stories, like the day my friends & i went to the armstrong redwoods of
which we knew little. we took the wrong route, swerving & it sickened me at first. but then we stopped & we made a home of this land, the trees seeping sap on my clothes, my mouth. i longed for its sweetness on my tongue. & for once, i didn't miss you that much, a miracle in itself.