Katie Gutierrez is a writer and editor living in San Antonio, TX. She has an MFA from Texas State University, and her writing has appeared in the Washington Post, Catapult, Lit Hub, Electric Lit, Longreads, Texas Monthly, and more. She is represented by Hillary Jacobson at ICM Partners, and can be found working on her debut novel while her toddler naps.

Con Suerte He Will Sleep Another Hour | Katie Gutierrez Collins

Marilinda Guzman was eighty-two years old, and the things her mother had never told her could fill the condo building that rose like a tall, sharp-elbowed gringa across the street from her own little house. Marilinda, her mother had never said, arranging the yellowed lace mantilla around Marilinda’s wedding-day face, you will be happy with Roberto. Her mother had never curved a cool hand around Marilinda’s cheek and promised, Mijita, your life will be swollen with love. Neither had she revealed, in solemn, confidential tones, Marilinda, on the fourth day the moretónes become bright as flower pollen, and that’s when you will be able to cover them the easiest with makeup.

I Didn't Want to Breastfeed, But Weaning is Breaking My Heart

The first time I breast-fed my daughter, I was surrounded by strangers. Someone had helped me slide free of my delivery gown, slick with my daughter’s newness. Someone else had helped me into a new gown. There were hands everywhere: first pressing my tender, flaccid abdomen; now sliding a new pad beneath my hips; now holding my newborn to my breast. The hands — blue-gloved, shiny — squeezed my flesh, guided it into her mouth. My husband, Adrian, stroked my hair. I didn’t know what to do with my own hands. I watched, like the most unnecessary stranger in the room.
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