My ama has been on my mind a lot. I miss her. This coming Monday, May 29th will be 34 years since she went to get some real rest. Mothers day just passed this month and I had many moms to give well wishes to and plenty of people outside of my children blessed me with gifts and flowers and beautiful cards. It felt so nice to feel so loved and yet, the cards that said “To My Mother” pricked my heart, I am no longer a candidate to give a card like that. I kind of want to feel that heavy weight of sadness, but I control myself somewhat. I miss what I didn’t get to have with her. I realize I had an entire childhood with my ama. Some people, like my sweet nephew, Patty’s little Andrew, do not get to have their mommas in their childhood. Selfish! Y aun asi, regrets rise up, the things I didn’t give her, the things we didn’t share, the things we missed together. That feeling is painful and pitiful! I don’t like it, instead, I’ll indulge and share a sweet memory.
La Hora de Las Novelas
Strong latina women love their novelas, it’s their time to rest. Asi es, my ama rested as she got worked up about the traiciones y escandalos of the novelas, so much so that she snuck in a nap during the commercials. .
The English novelas came on as early as 10 am. She didn’t understand the dialogue or the hot messes of Days of Our Lives. Gracias a Dios because she would have gotten caught up in all those dramatics. Those gringos were sneaky, she couldn’t stop to figure it all out, besides, she had mucho quehacer aside from preparing lunch for my apa. As every wife and mother will agree, chores are never ending. I imagine that she worked until it was almost time for the Spanish Novelas at 5pm. Even then, sometimes while she watched she folded laundry, making piles of folded clean clothes for us to put away just as soon as we trickled in after school. The endless commercials would lull her into a nap. Right there on the couch she’d lean back and put her head down to her chest and sleep. That’s usually when I walked in. Noisily opening the door and startling her awake, hijole! She warned me to keep quiet with her eyes. Tossing my stuff down on the couch and going straight to the kitchen, I found something to eat and sat and watched with her for a while, avoiding the piles of folded clothes. During those teenage years I loved watching the tragic love stories. Same plots and beautiful people. Esmeralda, was my favorite. The poor blind girl who lived in a cave and that snobby rich guy whom she fell in love with, had me mesmerized. I was impatient for the happy ending. Al menos with the Spanish novelas we did get an end to the story, the soap operas NEVER end!! Drama tras drama, a continual tragic cycle. I was too worried that the commercial wouldn’t last long enough for me to run and put the clothes into the drawers. I would rush down the hall and throw all the nicely folded clothes into drawers. What if I missed something?! Sometimes I was running back making all kinds of noise asking what I had missed and my ama would sharply shush me again. Hijole, novela hour was serious business. My ama would get back to watching and folding and snoozing and somehow she didn’t miss any of the exciting dramatic scenes. When the novela hour was over, it was safe again. I can never forget that serious look my ama could wield like a weapon, y ahora, I wear it often.
Recently I was talking to a dear friend who just recently lost her mom. I shared with her the healing process that has helped me through the years: I love to talk and write about mi ama and the things I did experience with her. It really does help, thank you for listening to me y que Dios las bendiga.