It was quiet as the bright sun was reaching its peak overhead.

The only sound that could be heard aloud was the wind intertwining through and rustling the few leaves left on the giant tree to the side of the Rivera household that had managed to hang a bit longer than their companions.

The cool calming breeze brushed against the heated cheeks of a face that had been exposed to the sun too long. A sleeping musician leaned against a wall, slouched, and still incapsulated in a dream world deeply and desperately wishing it was his reality.

"Er-ne-sto! Er-ne-sto! Er-ne-sto!"

He still held his spot front and center on a familiar stage being nearly engulfed with flowers, blowing kisses to the adoring crowd, listening intently to the chanting of his name. His hand journeyed back and forth from his heart, showing true gratitude to his loyal fans, then to a selfish ear wanting and waving for the screams to grow louder! To grow bolder to boost his already inflated ego.

"Er-ne-sto!"

Suddenly, the crowds cheers began to calm and grow quiet. Soon one by one people began to disappear before his eyes and confusion and fear settled in his chest. The once overflowing plaza started to clear without any rhyme or reason. Then, with a blink, Ernesto was left in the dark on an empty stage..alone.

At least, it seemed as if he were alone.

From a distance, he could still hear his name being called, not by a crowd, but one person? Maybe two?

Ernesto found himself uneasy and began to stir, feeling his dream slip from his minds tight longing grip.

"Ernesto!"

Wait..that voice. Or err…voices? Sounds..familiar. Sounds like—

"Ernesto! Wake up!"

He gave with all his might to allow an eyelid rise to see two very loud, overly excited boys mere inches from his face.

He was slow to wake, trying to bring his tired hands to rub the rest of the sleep away from his eyes. Maybe going back to the plaza the night before was not such a great idea, after all. But, what could he say? He stopped by to show his support to his best friend on one of the most important days of his life, but, let's be honest, he wasn't going to be much help to Héctor or Imelda. So, what was he to do? Of course go back to make sure he didn't disappoint his fans, or, as others would have called them, the guests to the wedding celebration.

His hand drug along his face, his fingers feeling every prick of his five o'clock shadow he had not dared let grace his baby soft skin since it first showed up years before. His hands weighed down his jaw, elongating it like a horse and he wondered..

When did he get back here? How long had he been asleep? What time was it? And why in God's good name were Oscar and Felipe's overly stretched grinning faces so close to his?

His groggy eyes looked up to the sky to reveal the sun hovering overhead letting him get an idea of the time.

"Oy! It can't be midday already, can it?"

The two boys obviously ignoring his question, could not contain their excitement or patience any longer. It seemed as though time had slowed while waiting for Ernesto to wake up. Each took a shoulder shaking him to get his full attention to share the wonderful news.

"We're tíos!" The twins shouted in unison, overjoyed at their newly given titles which they were ready to shout to anyone who would extend a listening ear.

Still not fully conscious quite yet, Ernesto wobbled to his feet, trying to ignore the ache in his joints from sleeping in an awkward position against a wall for an amount of time by which no one could give him an answer…he gave his face another harsh rub desperately trying to wake up. But, it only took a moment for his brain finally realized what his ears had just heard. His eyes sprang wide open.

"Wait, its here? Where's Héctor?"

"Its a—"

Oscar was quick to throw a hand to Felipe's mouth, covering his brothers loose lips before he could divulge a single detail.

"Don't you ever listen? Héctor is going to tell him!"

Oscar peeled his fingers back slowly, each revealing more of the cheeky grin Filipe sported.

"Then why are we still standing here? Let's go!"

Not wasting another minute, out of fear of Felipe's loose tongue telling Héctor and Imelda's news, the twins each grabbed an arm, dragging Ernesto around the corner of the house preparing for a triumphant burst through the front door.

Héctor stood in the kitchen, stirring around slowly and quietly, trying his best to not let the clanging of the cups echo throughout the house, especially up the stairs.

The dark circles were a clear indication of the events from the night before, but nothing could hide the joy that radiated off his body. It was contagious. Despite the exhaustion, he was as happy as could be. There was no denying that.

Seeing the three young men coming at him at top speed, he mouthed, "Shhhhhhhh!" Héctor brought up a tired finger to his lips and the other pointed up the stairwell. "They are resting."

With the twins uneven pull on his arms and his feet in route ahead of his torso, Ernesto had just about tripped over himself entering the kitchen.

"Here—"

"He is!"

Héctor chuckled seeing the sight of his best friend. He has seen this look on Ernesto before. He didn't need to let his imagination wonder of Ernesto's doings. After a night celebrated with music where he could be the center of attention, he didn't expect any different.

"Long night, amigo?" He said coyly as he tipped the cup in Ernesto's direction.

"Not as long as yours, I imagine." Ernesto caught his balance as he pulled away from the twins excited grip to straightened out the front of his shirt and dust off his pant leg. "I hear a congratulations is in order?" He stuck out his hand gripping Hector's in a hearty handshake.

Héctor couldn't let it but just that, a handshake would not suffice, not with this.

He pulled Ernesto into a brotherly hug slapping him on the back. "I have a daughter, Ernesto. Its a girl!"

A girl.

He was alert enough that the words did not take near as long to register in his brain. Ernesto cleared his throat in excitement and in shock. A girl. All this time, he just knew Héctor and Imelda were having a boy. At least that is what he wished for, as with most of the men at the dance hall.

"So, you are the proud papá to a little girl…a daughter. My apologies, friend." He tipped his head to him with an encouraging yet joking smirk.

"No, no Ernesto. She is beautiful, and healthy…just perfect."

"And her name is Coco!" All the eyes in the room darted to Felipe who couldn't help himself any longer. If he had had it his way, all this would have been talked about by now and they could be seeing their new niece. Oscar gave a hearty tap to the back of his head, one he knew it would have been pleasing for Imelda to witness. "You don't listen!"

Felipe rubbed the sore spot on his head while he cut a sharp eye to his brother. "I didn't say her whole name!"

Ernesto looked confused as he glanced back to Héctor who continued to sip more of his coffee.

"Coco? Uhhh..That's what you're going with?"

"Socorro, Coco for short."

"Well, amigo, I couldn't be happier for you and Imelda. We will all hope for a boy the next go around, I suppose."

Héctor could have spit his drink across the room. His child was not even a day old and the talk of more children was already being tossed into the air.

"Considering all it took to bring this blessing into the world, I don't think that is even close on either of our minds right now."

Ernesto sucked the air through his teeth. All this time and he had yet to ask how the new mamá was doing. "You seem to be fairing quite well, but how is Imelda?"

"To be expected. Tired, exhausted, thrilled this is all over. But, oh so happy to have her here. Crazy how you can be all those things at once! But, it was a long night. Tallah has come and gone several times making sure they are both doing well, checking on my girls. My girls." The idea of his family nearly overtook him with joy. "Can you believe it, Ernesto? My family. You have to come meet her."

The twins ran past the two men as they made their way up the stairs. All trying to be as quiet as possible, but each managed to step on every creak in the worn boards. It was as if the house knew to announce their every move out loud.

Ernesto had never been one for babies. Especially this one for the longest time. Of course, he would never dare say an ill word, or act in any negative way to his best friend's child. Absolutely not.

But he never understood the fascination. He had roughly six months to get ready for this 'so called' blessing everyone was so eager about, but he wasn't expecting anything special. She would be just like all the other ones he heard about and avoided at all costs.

After all, all he had ever heard about freshly born babies is they were not cute by any means. Quite frankly, any child he had ever been around was squashed and red-faced from their screams which could pierce an eardrum. And, some smelled rather unpleasant.

But this was his best friend's child…Héctor's child. She was finally here. And he was about to put a name and a face to actual person who had just been talked about for the past several months.

With each step he felt nervous. A little anxious and hesitant, but somewhat excited all at the same time.

Héctor slowly opened the door, his head peaking in first. Then he stepped confidently forward waving the others to follow.

Ernesto stepped in the warm quiet room. The wash basin was sitting at the corner of the room, just out of the way. Freshly washed blankets sat on the vanity beside it.

A small basinet was placed just beside the bed which held a peacefully sound asleep Imelda, laying as close as she could to it, just inches away from being in it herself.

Her arm was protectively draped over the railing into the small bed with her fingertips slightly resting atop the tightly swaddled bundle.

Héctor tip-toed over. gently moving Imelda's arm and placing it along her hip. Then he picked up his baby, careful not to disturb her slumber as her journey into this world was a long one. For both her and her mother.

He gently swayed her back and forth, almost dancing her to Ernesto for him to see.

At first glance, all his preconceived notions were swept away. She was not this squished faced tiny screaming being. To be fair, she wasn't awake yet, so his mind couldn't be changed just yet.

He stood there staring at the child in Hector's arms. Taking a good look at what Héctor had gotten himself into. She was the spitting image of Imelda, but he could also point out certain features the child was, no doubt, her father's.

"She is beautiful, Hector. Congratulations, you're really a papá!"

"You want to hold her?"

"Me? No, well, I, no…you know I don't—" He placed both his arms up as if he was holding a white flag symboling a defeat. A point of never being around babies meant he didn't have to hold one either.

But, before he knew it, in one swift motion, she was in his arms. Ernesto was still as a statue, hardened and his mind racing on how not to drop her, digging his heels into the floor.

"Relax, amigo. Trust me, I felt the same way just hours ago. It's easy!"

Ernesto looked down nervously at the child who was trying to open her eyes and look back up at him.

"So, you're what all this fuss has been about?"

It did not take long for the news to have all of Santa Cecilia abuzz. Nothing beat the excitement of a new life entering the world. Especially if Oscar and Felipe had anything to do with it. The pure joy that had overwhelmed them, they happily passed along.

Once the visits quieted, and the family could be a family, is when all the advice Imelda and Héctor had been tucking away for months, would truly be put to the test. It would also prove which was truly beneficial, and which was a complete crock.

Unfortunately, the latter of the two seemed to be ahead. Even though both were too tired to really keep count.

In the months leading up their their daughter's birth, someone, anyone, could have warned that parenthood was like traveling unknown seas. Treading in unexplored territory blindfolded, storms showing face out of nowhere with the feeling of drowning yet feeling victorious all at the same time.

Or better yet, to let them know that any expectations they had for parenthood or their child, was a mindset best thrown out the window.

From the time of day morning sickness reared its ugly head, to the kinds of food Imelda craved, even down to the the way she carried sweet Coco. What did any of that matter? None of the trials of pregnancy and anticipation of becoming parents could have prepared the couple for when their child finally entered the world and straight into their arms.

Everything Imelda did came so naturally to her. One didn't have to take her word for it. Anyone who knew her mother, she would have said the same. Walking, talking, even sining and dancing. She excelled at most everything she tried.

So, why was this whole mothering thing so damn hard?

She had her doubts long before Coco was born and the long days and even longer nights became a groggy routine.

How was she suppose to raise a child when some days she still felt like one. Of course, she helped her mother with the twins when they were infants, but siblings very much differ from one's own child. When Oscar or Felipe needed something, her mother was there. She knew what they needed. Of all the advice she had been given, all Imelda really wanted was for someone to tell her exactly what to do. Not what foods to eat as to curve her child's picky tastebuds years down the road.

But, Imelda, prideful as she may be, and never, of course, admitting she was wrong or scared, would tell Héctor of her worry. He was so thrilled with everything that surrounded the very idea of becoming a papá, why would she bring that high down with her silly worry that most would say was completely normal?

Thankfully, Tallah sensed it. One day coaxing it out of her. Something Imelda was happy to get off her chest, but not thrilled to admit aloud.

"A motherly instinct," Tallah would say over and over. Like repeating it would magically make it reality to Imelda. "Becoming a mother comes naturally to a woman. You'll know what to do."

But that was the whole problem. That is where the lines get blurred. What Imelda found was that becoming a mother was the easy part. Pregnancy, labor, birth, it was all a breeze compared to this thing they called motherhood.

See, Imelda was a logical thinker. Is, was and always would be. She possessed a "cause and effect" sort of thinking process in every situation she found herself in. If "this" happens then "that" is the solution and "boom" the problem would be solved.

Why would she not carry those same expectations into motherhood.

Healthy babies are easy, the conventional wisdom says, because their needs are very basic. If they're crying, they need to sleep, eat, be changed, snuggled. Once the need is met, they stop crying. Perfecto! Problem conquered.

The baby in question needs something, and she cries until she gets it. These cries trigger an adrenaline response in a parent. The body panics, because something is wrong with the baby and the parent cannot relax until they fix it. So they go about fixing it.

Unless they do not stop crying. There's something mysterious that happens to new parent's ears ― somehow invisible ear trumpets grow overnight. It's some evolutionary maximum sound sensitivity that allows a parent to hear every tiny noise their baby makes.

It means every groan is heard. Every breath. Every blink. Yes, Imelda swore she could really be hearing her baby blink from across the hallway and through shut doors ― and she wouldn't let anyone tell her otherwise.

It was as if she had developed better hearing than a bat or one of those tiny field mice with the big floppy ears. A newborn's screams do not just vibrate the eardrums, they strum every nerve ending in the body. Those screams are literally painful.

Maybe Ernesto had the right idea all along?

Those were the hard days. The long, "what did we get ourselves into" sort of days.

And those nights were even longer.

Feeding, swaddling, soothing Coco until Imelda no longer knew what the inside of her eyelids looked like anymore. It was a hard balance, one she found out early on she would have to learn on the job. And once she seemed to have it all figured out, something changed, and she saw herself having to learn all over again.

But, something else, something quite funny, Imelda only felt new parents would understand. Though she was exhausted, emotions on edge most days, breasts tender from feedings, and, although, she didn't have any idea what she was doing, it was all worth it.

Although learning cues from such a tiny being who didn't know anything about the world they had been brought into, Coco was a good baby.

She smiled and cooed each time Imelda picked her up with the coziest of blankets. When Héctor walked into the room she was guaranteed to giggle whether he made a silly face at her or not. The contentment Coco showed when she was wrapped securely to her mamá's chest could have made Imelda's heart burst each time.

Somehow, it felt like Coco had been with them the whole time. Odd to speak aloud, but such a sweet sentiment held so much truth.

But, Imelda's favorite moments had to be when she sang to her beautiful daughter. Imelda found early on the lullabies she sang to her, she still wanted earth side in her mamá's arms. Coco always snuggled down into her arms, and Imelda would sing a soft melody as Héctor played gently beside them.

As much as Imelda and Héctor felt they had prepared themselves for parenthood, nothing could have prepared them for the crazy journey they had stepped out on, but especially the amount of love they would have for their daughter, and the lengths they would go for her.

Some nights were simple, a lullaby and quietly placed in her bassinet as the two parents crawled out on hands and knees to not make a sound. Then there were times where Imelda would walk in to check on her sleeping babe only to find a sleeping Héctor on the floor next to and empty bed with a book opened across his face and a crawling Coco coming her way.

Yes, the days and nights were long, but this was her life, her family. And Imelda made sure that she counted each and every one of her blessings because this..this was what becoming a mother was all about.

Before anyone knew it, Coco blossomed into a lovely little girl before everyone's eyes. A wide eyed, loving child who was always just an arms length away from her mamá's side or finding even more ways to wrap her papá more around her tiny fingers.

One thing was for certain and that was she adored her parents.

Even from an early age, Coco knew her parents worked hard for what they had and to count her blessings.

She saw her mamá work each day caring for her and her family while tailoring odd jobs when the time could be spared. She anxiously watched the hands of the clock tick by waiting for it to strike the right number which would signal her papá walking through the door from a long day working for Senor Tomas or coming straight from a gig.

It wasn't just her parents who were doing their best to be proper role models. Her Tío Oscar and Tío Felipe joined in too. In their own special way. For instance, teaching her how to effectively complete her chores. At least, that was the story they were telling their sister of their favorite niece. If you asked Coco, it was just a clever way to speed up said chore like how they did it back when they were her age. Effective or not, they still made the boring chore fun.

Nights were a time where they could put the day aside and be together as a family. A time where Héctor would bring out his guitar and Imelda would take Coco by the hand into exaggerated drawn-out twirls with her long skirts flowing like emerald waves. Dancing the worries of the day away. Her mamá and papá would sing such beautiful songs. And when she grew tired, Héctor would switch on the phonograph and always ask permission from Coco to dance with her mamá.

And being the hopeless romantic she was, she always said yes.

To be honest, those were her favorite moments to see. Some nights, she would sit on the floor and look in awe at her parents as they graced across the living room floor. And sometimes, her papá would dance with her mamá throughout the entire first floor as Imelda laughed and Coco followed closely behind to keep up as to make sure she didn't miss a single moment.

The loves of each other's lives dancing hand in hand. Happy.

Those were true experiences together. Whether they were dancing, playing, singing, or simply walking through the crowded plaza with her hand tightly encased in Imelda's, it brought them all quality time and moments to remember. As young as Coco was, she naturally embraced being in the moment and not having another care in the world. Those moments Coco spent with her mamá and papá were memories that would embed themselves so deep and she would learn to treasure for as long as she lived.

Which was why a certain picture held so much value to her. A moment captured in time.

The family portrait was her absolute favorite. She remembered how hard both Héctor and Imelda scrimped and saved to have a professional photo taken. Such a simple gesture was equally a luxury. And Coco knew it.

Imelda brought out her most favorite dress that had been tucked away in a closet for years. She only wore it on special occasions and if this picture was going to be seen by generations, she was going to look her absolute best. She did the same for coco. Make sure her simple day dress was pressed and the creases sharp and crisp with socks that actually matched. Héctor knew classy suspenders would not suffice and he needed some equally special attire on his end. Although the suit was too big, Imelda pinned the back to where no one would ever know it was a borrowed mariachi suit.

Their only family picture sat proudly on a shelf for all to see as soon as they stepped in their home.

Her papá tall, confident, bold standing with his family with a proud hand on his guitar and another behind his wife.

Now, for her mamá. A stern hard look, yet beautiful and poised as she sat with her best posture, which took no effort, holding on to an innocent curious Coco.

Those same striking eyes Imelda sported in the photo were the same eyes Coco could see as she peered from behind her newly finished coloring page.

Powerful, determined and with purpose. Even if she was walking across the kitchen and back, she did with such grace. Knowing exactly the task she needed to do all while looking the opposite direction and verbally checking something off her to do list.

Coco looked to the clock and the hands were well past where they should be.

"Papá should have been home by now. Maybe that's why Mamá is making that face…" She quietly said under her breath.

Even though she wanted to show her mamá her finished picture, she knew it was best not to disrupt her mamá's purposeful stomps.

"Coco, please clean up this mess, your papá will be home any minute. And go wash for supper." Imelda placed a lovely dessert on the table, then continued on her trail.

"Si, mamá." Coco stacked up her papers and placed the charcoal bits and colors into a small box. But, she couldn't help but notice the crème caramel just sitting there on the tabletop. Lonesome. No other dishes near it. Her mamá placed it on the edge even!

Her eyes narrowed and a sneaky little grin came across her face. She stood just to the side of the doorway to the kitchen, pulling the bottom ruffle of her dress closer to her as to not give her position away. She peeked around the edge of the wood getting a location of her mamá and where her next steps could be. This was the oldest trick in the book according to Tío Oscar and Tío Felipe. When they were younger one's job was to distract Imelda while the other managed to get their pre-dinner dessert. But, there was only one coco. She had to learn to modify their trick just a bit.

Once she heard the plates being set on the table and Imelda turned around, she scurried over quietly underneath the table right by the back table leg. This she found gave her the best view and the dessert was just within reach. She heard another bowl being placed just inches above her and, like an answered prayer, Imelda turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen.

She knew this was her chance with just seconds on her side. Coco peered over the table corner. Only her eyes and part of her nose visible.

No one in sight. She positioned her little pointer finger like a hook and went in for just one swipe of the delectable caramel topping.

"Ah ah ah!" Though Imelda's voice could be heard clear as day she was no where to be seen.

This was the trick Imelda had perfected according to Oscar and Felipe. She didn't have to be anywhere close, yet somehow, she knew exactly what was going on. Something they told her she got eerily good a doing once Coco was born.

Her stomach let out an awfully loud grumble to let her mamá know it wasn't just her mind and sneaky hands that made her commit the crime, but her hungry belly.

"But mamá,—" she said as she drug herself out from under the table and put her hands in the air.

"No buts mija, you know we have wait for your papá to come home first. Besides, its his favorite."

Imelda took a wet washcloth and wiped the colored smears off Coco's hands. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice a clear dip right through the middle? Or the caramel on those lips of yours?"

"One bite never hurt anything…"

"One bite and you will not want supper. Just wait for—"

"The clock says that papá should have been home by now." Coco took her hand from her mamá and pointed to the clock Imelda was well aware off. "See! It is close to the seven…Papá comes home on the six."

Imelda let out a heavy sigh. She knew Héctor was late. The days he was late were the days he had a gig and she could only hope was going very well.

"Tell you what, how about you go show me all the things you've been drawing, si?"

The frown Coco had was quickly erased by a huge smile as she ran and gathered up all her papers.

She arranged them all in the floor so Imelda could see each one as Coco described them all to her. Descriptions of why she chose that color and why that person was taller in her drawings than in real life, both horizontally and vertically.

Imelda sat in the floor with Coco and just listened taking in all her daughter's creativity. It also triggered another memory. One that seemed like so long ago, but close at the same time.

This was exactly how Oscar and Felipe were as children. Heck, even just last week. Paper and writing utensils could never be too far way from those two. They were always drawing and scribbling out plans for new experiments. Or, her least favorite, but always entertaining, tricks to play on her.

No matter what, they always pulled her in to proudly show off what they had done.

She treasured those memories when they were young boys. It seemed like she blinked and her younger brother had turned into young men. Their hard work paying off as they were getting ready to leave for apprenticeships. Something she always wanted for them, but was equally dreading. But, this was a future they had been preparing themselves for, they deserved it and Imelda promised years before she would made sure it would happen.

Another loud grumble from Coco's belly brought Imelda out of her trance. Or it may have been hers letting her know that her hunger was not immune to Héctor's tardiness either.

Imelda walked over to the counter and grabbed two forks and handed one to Coco.

"Come on, mija. It is time to eat."

Coco smiled reached ear to ear and she took her place at the table and began to reach for the bread. But, Imelda was quick to intervene.

"Change of plans. Tonight, we start with dessert." Imelda dug her fork right through the caramel and enjoyed the sweetness as it danced across her tastebuds.

"Really mamá!" Once she got the wink from Imelda, Coco drug her fork across and did the same.

She and Coco wasted no time going in for another bite.

With a mouth full, and a belly happy, Coco said, "What will we tell papá when he gets home and there is no more dessert?"

Imelda licked her fork clean, grinned and coyly stated, "We will just tell him Tío Oscar and Tío Felipe had something to do with it."

The mother and daughter laughed as they clinked their forks together and enjoyed until there were no evidence of their antics left.

Thunder could be heard in the distance as the sun began to set, leaving the small cantina dark with lights flickering.

Héctor sat in the corner in the very back, where a the small envelope was sitting in front of him being highlighted by the dim light right above him.

His pay.

He wished it were heavier. Wished it was thicker, but seeing the few papers and coins hit the table as he emptied the small pouch, he couldn't help but be grateful.

Because it could have been less.

"Sergio said these were on the house." Ernesto plopped down two hearty drinks in front of him, filled to the rim. Leaving no space unfilled. Héctor looked over to the bar to see Sergio lift a hand from the glass he was cleaning, he waved right back in gratitude.

"He must have counted this pitfall pile from over there. Though, I don't know how he could have seen it. This will barely cover anything for the week." Héctor raked his earnings back into the envelope and tucked it securely in his jacket pocket.

"Well, here's to next week. Maybe." He clinked his glass next to Ernesto's before taking a huge gulp. The alcohol burning the back on this throat as it passed over his tongue.

Ernesto didn't drink to the toast. How could he? What he saw before him was not a show he could drink to merrily to.

The gigs had been slow lately. The odd jobs turned steady pay had begun to disappear, as well. It seemed as if everyone around them were getting stuck in the same rut. A routine no one wanted to be apart of.

"Oh, cheer up, Héctor. We have a few weddings coming up. That'll be—"

"The same songs, the same dances…the same…routine. Only for less and less pay. You've heard them, Ernesto."

"That's it. You said it yourself. You have just gotten stuck in a routine, amigo. You need something new, something exciting!"

Héctor had felt like he had been stuck in a rut lately. Musically anyway. His song book had pages begging to be filled with life, but he just couldn't seem to find the time to do so. Not when food had to be put on the table, and bills needed to be paid. And, of course, time spent with this family.

"And what do you expect me to do, huh? You are in the same boat as me, Ernesto."

It was just the opening Ernesto had been waiting for. Waiting for for years. Ernesto put on his signature cocky grin and let his hands rest at the back of his head. "We are artists, Hector! We can't belong to one family, to one town! The world is our family!"

"What did Sergio put in your drink? Because he certainly did not put it in mine?"

"How about we give it another go?" Ernesto said eagerly.

Héctor chuckled at the very thought of leaving again. But, it had been a while since him and Ernesto had played this game, why not see where it goes?

"Oh, I see, so we are just suppose to pack all to our name on our backs, sneak out on the next train and see what becomes of us? Do you not remember, amigo? We did that before and look where we are? Many times, mind you."

Héctor took another gulp of his pep lacking drink. "Besides, I don't think I am ready to jump back in again."

"Don't you miss it." Ernesto quipped back quickly at Hector's play. Ernesto knew where Héctor was coming from. And, as much as it pained him to admit it, he rushed into their last venture far to quickly.

But, this time would be different.

"Of course I do, but I…we…we are settled here." Héctor couldn't bring himself to look Ernesto in the eye. What a stupid question. Does he miss playing for crowds, seeing peoples faces light up at the sound of his guitar stings, dancing to newly written songs fresh from his songbook.

Yes, gosh, yes he missed it. Yearned for it each day.

Ernesto brought his hands flat on the table before him, taking in a deep breath he said calmly, "Héctor, I have sat idle for years now. I kept my word to wait since it was obvious what I wanted wasn't meant to be quite yet. You took the reins. Who knew me letting you take control would mean getting married and having a family." Ernesto let a sly grin come over his face. "You have always been dramatic."

Héctor let a small laugh slip while still looking out the window. Ernesto knew he was slowly, but surely taking advantage of the situation and Héctor's vulnerable state, and he didn't feel the least bit bad about it. All the pieces were slowly lining up, and he was eager to strike.

"Hear me out. You talk about routine and just barely making ends meet. I have the perfect solution. You are the writer, aren't you? Go rewrite the script! The world is changing, growing! Where we played before…we probably would not recognize! A fresh start is what we need, Hector."

Héctor finally felt ready to throw his dart. At least he hoped the ammo he had been storing would be enough to sway Ernesto's mind. And his own. But, it was what it always came back to. Family.

"The road is no place for a child? Coco is only three years old…"

"Going on four!"

"You have to admit still young."

"Young enough to not miss Santa Cecilia. She needs to make some real memories! Just like we did! Those were some of the best years of our lives!"

"We were two young boys who snuck on a train and skipped town!"

Ernesto pretended he didn't hear the comeback as he downed the whole glass.

"We are not only talking about Coco. There's Imelda…you remember the last time we mentioned leaving."

Héctor said it like it was like the events surrounding it was a bad omen.

"That was a long time ago and you had Coco on the way. And waited too long to tell me, might I add. I think I was in shock for weeks! I was not thinking clearly. Looking back, that was terrible timing on my part. It was a bad idea then, but not now. But, Hector…now is our chance."

Héctor twirled the empty glass on the table, careful not to let it fall. His mind racing, trying to find anything else in his brain's arsenal to throw to Ernesto.

"Imelda's feet are planted, Ernesto. I don't think—"

"Hector, let me tell you something." Ernesto got into position to throw in his final plea, it was now or never. All riding on this, and he knew it.

"That guitar right there. Who got you that guitar that is wasting time being propped to the side here?"

Héctor looked down at his prized possession. He knew it ached just as much as he did to sing a different chord.

"You talk about Imelda this, Imelda that. Imelda, a hard worker, taking care of herself and those brothers of hers, coming from a very, how do we say, humble background, si? Why would she spend her hard earned money on a guitar? If she didn't believe in your dream, why would she have gotten the guitar in the first place? You were two kids who fell in love with no real money to speak of. And, answer me this, when you did find out about Coco, she didn't try to sell it. I am sure Senor Tomas would have taken it back had he known the circumstances. Or maybe not. We will never know."

The pin had been pulled from the grenade and it was about to be tossed for the final blow. "If she is still the woman you married, her dream would be the same as yours. And as much as you claim her love for music rivals our own, she will understand."

Héctor had no arguments, no points to make, no smart responses back. All of what Ernesto said rang truth. A lot of truth. Something burned deep within his chest cavity. A blow that struck every chord in his being. A fire trying to find enough air to burn bright.

"So, my friend, what are we waiting for? No one is going to hand us our dream, Héctor." Ernesto said, putting a rest to his case.

It was done. The years of waiting, the itch that he couldn't scratch, the hunger that needed to be satisfied…it was all out there. He just needed to hear what Héctor had to say. The whole situation mirrored what they each did many years ago, just getting started, quieting the fear and plunging forward. Yay or nay.

He answered not in a sad tone or annoyed with anything Ernesto had said. It was an answer filled with excitement and joy. "I'm listening."

Ernesto's eyes burned as bright as the flames from the nearby streetlight. There it was, he could see it! The passion flickering in Hector's eyes. It wasn't lost, but merely hiding. All Ernesto had to do was fan it.

He took out a crumbled piece of paper that had happily made his pant pocket home for a week now. His callused pointer finger pressing hard across the bold letters.

"Here's what I'm thinking."

The thunder had moved on, but Héctor felt as though he has his own personal raincloud hovering above him. He had picked a small rock as a companion kicking it from the cantina, deciding to take the longer way home.

What was he going to do?

The decision to leave had been made. So, the more appropriate question was, what was he going to tell Imelda?

With each step, the guitar at his back seemed to weigh heavier and heavier. Becoming more of a burden than a blessing. But, at the same time. He was absolutely giddy at the thought of writing again, playing music for a new crowd. Getting out of Santa Cecilia for a little while. It was something new!

"She will be fine with this. She would want us all to go, or at least, want me to go."

Each time he seemed to have chosen an answer, it seemed to flip again.

"Coco is young. But, would she even remember this place? Would it matter? I hardly remember what I ate for breakfast last week but less when I was a kid her age… "

Héctor made one more loop around the plaza before finally heading home.

Time seem to speed up and he was suddenly rounding the corner and his home was in sight.

As he approached the front steps, the light could been seen shining brightly in the window showcasing the mother and daughter dancing. Imelda twirling Coco and Coco laughing so hard her cheeks were as rosy as could be.

His breath lightly fogged the glass mere inches from his face. Héctor felt a knot forming in his gut. A nagging bubbling twist of his insides.

His family.

"Look at them. She is getting so big." He said ever so quietly. Oh, what he would miss being gone for four months. That was a long time for a child to grow, to change. He turned away from the wonderful heartwarming scene that danced behind the window.

His family.

But, it was just a few months. It's not like Ernesto proposed they be gone years or indefinitely. And he was going out to provide for his family. He was doing this for them. His successes meant no more nights of going to bed with hungry bellies, or Imelda working her fingers to the bone for a pay that did not reflect what she was worth. They all could go see the world and what was in it playing music along the way.

He had made a promise to his best friend. A friendship that had developed well before Coco, well before Imelda. He did owe it to Ernesto to give it just one more shot. What could it hurt? And if it didn't work out, he would come home. Back home with his family. He felt the heaviness of his guitar at his back again. It played in twine with what Ernesto had said.

He was right, why would Imelda spend that money on a guitar with them just starting out in a life together if she didn't support him. Support his music and the blessings it brought.

Before Héctor turned to approach the front steps again, he knew he was about to give the performance of a lifetime. He tried to shake off the nerves that had been building inside his gut ever since Ernesto placed the crumbled Mexico City flyer in front of him.

Success doesn't come for free. We have to make sacrifices to seize our moment. Music. It was what brought them together, after all. Surely she would understand.

Right?