Name: Date:

Name: Date:

By Parras Dumlao

Name:
Date:

I named him
after my grandfather:
Dennis Hernandez
or Pop Pop.

It was 2 AM,
Emily started screaming
and I thought: oh shit
there’s a fire!

We lived in Pop Pop’s house
when dad was in rehab.
He had these model boats—
he told me he used to be pirate.

I must have been going 80 in a 50,
because a cop stopped us 10 minutes from the hospital.
I almost didn’t stop—
Emily was in so much pain.

Dennis wasn’t a pirate,
he was a doctor in Mexico,
but a salesman in the US,
and a father at home.

They let me watch—
God why did I watch?
I must have gone white
because one of the nurses yelled:

“I’m so proud of you!”
Pop Pop said with the widest smile any man can have.
“Your boy is so big!
So strong!” his accent, thick and beautiful.

When I first heard my son cry in my arms,
I think I said: I’m sorry
That night, I smoked for the first time
in four—No! Six years!