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Como decia mi aPa…

…o que la cancion!

Este poema es dedicado a toda mi famila!!

En este dia que Dios me a dado
Voy a festejar!

Con el tequila y limon
que me van a acompañar.

Mi familia en Tejas
y en Mexico estan,

Lejos de distancia
y hoy los voy a extrañar.

El mariachi no me ayuda
y me va hacer llorar,

Pero voy a dar un brindis
entre lagrimas de edad,
Para toda mi familia
y por su bienestar.

Las sonriras de todos ustedes
las tengo aqui en mi corazon,

Muchas gracias a mi familia
y les dedico esta–mi cancion!

xoxoxo-Eva

…  😉

Para Navidad nuestros papas nos dieron motos electronicas. Tenian todo: luces, pedales y hasta radios walkie talkie y pretendiamos hablarnos por ese medio. Vero tubo una poca de dificultad manejando ese jugete tan pesado, pero como quiera, competia conmigo. Nuestras “competencias” empesaron con esas motos y formaron parte de nuestra rutina.

Como yo era un poco mayor que Vero, ya podia platicar con MaGrande, nuestra abuelita quien nos cuidaba mientras nuestros papas trabajaban. Vero trataba de convenserme para ver si you atrevia portarme mal o hacer algo para ver si me regañaba MaGrande.

Me acuerdo que un dia que estabamos con nuestra abuelita, viendola hacer tortillas de harina, Vero espepero a que MaGrande se voltio para otro lado. En ese moment fue cuando Vero pellizco un pedacito de masa. Se lo comio y con sus hojos me trataba de convenzer que yo tambien me “robara” un pedacito. En ves de seguirle a ella, y para asustarla, le pregunte a MaGrande (quien todavia estaba volteada a otra parte de la cocina) que si era sierto que se enfermaba de el estomago la gente que se comia la masa de tortillas de harina!

Like my cousin Veronica used to say…
… 😉

One Christmas our parents gave us matching police motorcycles. They had everything from lights to pedals and even walkie-talkies that we could pretend to talk to each other. Vero had a little trouble steering the heavy toy but still managed to race me. We challenged each other a little. The challenges started with those motorcycles and became part of our routine.

Since I had been around a little longer than her, I could have entire conversations with my grandma, our grandma, who used to watch us while our parents worked. Vero would accost me and try to distract me with dares that she knew might get me in trouble.

One of the times that we watched my grandma making flour tortillas, Vero waited for her to turn her back and then pinched off a little of the tortilla dough. She ate it and the look in her eyes dared me to do the same. Instead of taking the bait, I turned and asked my grandma if it was true that eating raw dough would make someone sick to their stomach!

Por un tiempo eramos nadamas tu y yo, Comadre

…dale un besito a tu prima Veronica.

En ese tiempo llego una nueva bebita. Seguro que mi tia Minerva y tio Pancho nos introducieron pero lo primero que me acuerdo de mi prima Vero, es que siempre andaba siguiendome en el patio. Algunas veces me seguia y trataba de hacer todo lo que yo hacia pero la mayoria de el tiempo se ponia a jugar ella sola.

Cuando por fin empesamos a jugar juntas, entonces si teniamos aventuras. Una vez juntamos tres sillas en una fila y pretendiamos que viajavamos por tren. Yo era la conductora y ella una pasajera, saludando a la gente mientras que nuestro tren salia de la estacion.

Siempre senti que Vero y yo teniamos una conneccion especial. Con su mirada me aseguraba que ella me entendia y que tambien, en veces hasta me podia leer la mente.

Like my Aunt Minerva used to say…
…give your cousin Veronica a kiss.

Around this time a new baby came to live there. My tia Minerva and tio Pancho must have introduced us in the beginning, but I only remember my cousin Vero from the time she could walk around the patio with me. Sometimes she followed me around and tried to do everything I did, but mostly making up her own playtime separate from me.

When we finally hit it off, it was adventurous. Once we put three mismatched chairs in a row and pretended to be riding in a train. I was the conductor and she was the passenger waving at the people as we pulled away from the station.

I always felt we had a special connection. Her gaze made me think she could understand everything I said and could actually read my mind sometimes.

Como decia mi Papa…

…quien mas me va hacer el cafe como me gusta a mi?

Esa era nadamas una de muchas maneras humorosas como mi Papa me explicaba cuanto quiere a mi Mama. Feliz dia de San Valentin! Los quiero mucho!

Like my dad used to say…
…who else would make my coffee just the way I like it?

This was only one of the many humorous ways my dad would explain to me how much he loves my mom. Happy Valentine’s Day! I love you!

…no llores mija.

La noche que fallecio mi bisabuela Eufracia, no me acuerdo si el abuelo Pepe estaba ahi. Yo tenia tres o cuatro años pero cuando me fui a dormir esa noche me sentia mucho mas mayor. Fue la noche que reconosi que el mundo no era perfecto.

Las luces rojas de la ambulancia rebotaban de pared a pared la noche que vinieron por my abuelita. Me encontre dentro de una niebla de voces y abrazos que me movia de cuarto a cuarto para distraerme y consolarme de la tristesa que yo no sabia que debia sentir. Creo que era la tristesa de si mismos que querian consolar.

No recuerdo mucho de mi abuelita o los demas detalles de esa noche pero si recuerdo que en el corto tiempo que pase con ella, me abrazaba me sonreia y me queria mucho. En paz descanse abuelita….

Like my family used to say…
…don’t cry baby girl

The night my great-grandmother died, I don’t remember Pepe being there. I was probably three or four years old, but by the time I went to sleep I felt a bit older. This was the night that I realized the world was not perfect.

Flashing red lights bounced from wall to wall when the ambulance came to take my great-grandma. I found myself in a blur of voices and family moving me from room to room distracting me and consoling me from sadness that I did not yet know I should have. I think it was their own sadness they tried to console by telling me that everything was all right.

I don’t remember much about my great-grandma or the rest of that night’s details but I do remember that in the short time I spent with her, she hugged me, she smiled at me and she loved me very much. May you rest in peace great-grandma…

…zzz zzz zzz  🙂

Era la uniqua nieta en ese tiempo I nunca me sentia con necesidad de tener la atencion de todos pero si me gustaba que me acompañaran. Yo me entretenia empujando las sillas de el comedor or amontonando los cojines de el sofa. Tengo una clara memoria de estar jugando con esos cojines y quitandoles sus forros. Amontonaba los cuadros de espuma a ver si podia hacer el monton mas alto que yo.

Ese dia me acompañaba y me cuidaba mi visabuelo Pepe (papa de PaGrande). El era flaco (y para entonces un poco debil) y tenia ojos tiernos y puras canas. Su piel arrugada no era tan morena, que yo me acuerdo. Casi no me acuerdo de su voz.  Pero se que su voz me hacia sentirme segura y siempre sonreia conmigo. En veces me pregunto si el conocio mi voz porque para entoces lla no oyia muy bien. El vivia en  la casa de MaGrande y dormia en un cuarto al otro lado de el patio. Cada dia, vestido de khakis con camisa blanca de botones y de manga corta salia de la casa y regresaba despues con pan dulce. Mis memorias de el consisten solo de estos detalles pero doy gracias a Dios. Estoy contenta recordando que el dormia pacificamente en su silla blanca de meser mientras jugaba yo cerca de el.

Like my great-grandpa Pepe used to say…
…zzz zzz zzz 🙂

I was the only grandchild up until this point and never felt that I needed everyone’s attention, but it was nice to always have that company. I was always able to entertain myself pushing the dining room chairs or stacking the sofa cushions. I have a vivid memory of playing with those cushions and taking them out of their covers. I was stacking the yellow foam squares like blocks trying to build something taller than me. My great-grandfather was watching me play.

Pepe was thin with soft eyes and white hair. He had light skin that looked like wrinkled leather. I barely remember his voice but I can not describe it. I know that his voice made me feel safe and he was always smiling at me. I wonder if he ever knew my voice because he had lost most of his hearing by then. He lived at my grandma’s house in a little room behind the patio. Everyday he would leave the house dressed in khaki pants and a short-sleeved, white button up shirt. He would come back later with bags of pan dulce, or Mexican sweet bread. My memories of him consist of these few things, but I am grateful. I am content to remember him peacefully sleeping in his rocking chair while I played at his feet in the patio.

Lupe & Pepe

“No te vayas a la salir”

Yo creci en dos casas. Una de ellas estaba en Matamoros. Mis memorias ahi empienzan en mi tercer año de vida. A esa edad ya tenia mas de dos años de experiencia caminando y podia ir y venir a mi gusto por toda la casa de mi MaGrande. Era todo mi mundo. Desde la puerta de enfrente podia ver hasta la ventana de la cocina. La sala se conectava al comedor y el comedor a la cocina y de ahi se salia a el patio. Era una casa larga como corredor desde la puerta hasta el patio. A esta edad no me interesaba el mundo afuera de la casa y la puerta de enfrente siempre estaba abierta. Podia ver los carros pasar. A veces, cuando teniamos carro, se quedaba estacionado a cruzar la calle. De ves en cuando vendedores de nieve o fruta pasaban en frente de la casa. Si alguna ves oyia las campanitas me iba a la puerta y los veia pasar. Ahora el auroma de mangos siempre me regresa el pensamiento a esa puerta.

Like my uncle Hilario used to say…
“Don’t go outside”

I grew up in two houses. One of them was in Matamoros. My memories there reach as far back as my third year. At the new age of three I had more than two years of walking experience and could be free to come and go as I pleased anywhere in my grandma’s house. That was my world. From the front door I could see all the way back to the kitchen window. The living room connected to the dining room connected to the kitchen which led to the tiled outdoor patio. It was like a long, wide hallway from the front door to the back of the house. At this age, I was not interested in the outside world so the front door would remain open. I could see the few cars going by. Sometimes, when we had one, our family car would be parked across the narrow street. Occasionally, vendors would go by pushing their carts with ice cream or fresh fruit. If the sound of their bells caught my attention I walked to the front door and just watched them slowly go by. The scent of ripe mangoes always takes me back to that front door.

Lupe & Tia Ana

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