My Seven Memoirs
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Tears Are Held Back
The call came around noon; it was a sunny day in the middle of Spring Break. My sister was still in bed and my brother and I were just finishing breakfast. M mom washed dishes in the kitchen, and then suddenly we all turned when the phone rang.
“I’ll get it.” My mom sighed as she left the sink and answered the phone nearby.
I could see her face from where I was seated, her eyes filled with worry and her voice were full of concern, I had no idea why though. She muttered some words in Spanish and hanged up. She leaned back on the dull wall behind her and sighed.
I was going to call out to her but then I changed my mind, I waited still glaring at her.
She picked up the phone again, and turned her face away from me, so I could not see. The atmosphere changed that second. I heard more words in Spanish, but this time I understood. There has been a death.
I ran as fast as I could past my mom and ran upstairs. The whole time I held my breath and held back ears. I didn’t wait to find out who was the person who died, I just ran.
At the top of the steps I saw my sister. She had just woken up and was heading towards the bathroom, after I saw her walk in, I ran to the door and knocked softly, and afraid my mom would hear. I told her all what happened, I left no details out and when I was done I took a well-needed deep breath.
There was a short pause then my sister said in her nonchalantly-slightly-annoyed voice, “Step away from the door.”
I wanted to scream, had she not heard me, but I resist the urge and I backed away. At that time my mom was coming upstairs. She seemed like she just finished the call. She looked exhausted and stressed. “Your father and I are going to Puerto Rico this week, Titi Lily is coming to watch the three of you.”
I sighed, inside I was heartbroken, but I knew if I showed that it would kill my mother inside. My little brother walked upstairs at that moment. “Really she’s coming! Yay!”
I smiled, I was so jealous of his ignorance and of his innocence, and I remembered being the youngest. No expectations or responsibility. I missed being so oblivious.
My sister finally came out smelling like toothpaste. She pushed her way across and grumbled. Then everyone turned away and went back downstairs, except for me.
Bed Sheets
It seems like she’s always busy with something else or someone else. I’m lucky if I can have at least two conversations a day. The type of conversations that last more then a minute long and where you actually learn something about the person. I don’t know her favorite color and I doubt she knows mine.
When my brother was born she was juggling taking care of the house and the new baby. Friday’s game night was cancelled and she was always exhausted. Those were the days I would love to just escape from the noisy house and just climb my favorite tree and stay up there ‘till dusk.
He’s eight now and we have a maid to do the housework. You think things would change. I made her promise to spend more time with me when we first moved. I talk to her more, but I always have to pull her away from work. I always have to fight for her attention and when I would get it, it wouldn’t be enough.
I remember making a play one day, it took me hours. Hanging up bed sheets for curtains, getting dressed in up, rehearsing the karaoke song. And then finally I was done.
I skipped to my mom, high expectations. She would love me, she would be so proud! I couldn’t wait to see her face when she saw the play. I dragged her to my room, where the play was being held. Expecting applause as soon as her eyes see the stage. But instead she yells, “Paola, How could you, I’m trying to clean up!” As the words came out, she pulled the curtains of the jump rope that kept them up and tears fell to my stage floor.
Under The Earth
We woke up early, got dresses in all black and hopped in the car. When we got to the memorial there was only a few minutes before the hearse left the memorial.
My sister, brother, and I found our grandmother and gave her a big hug, hoping to lift her spirits up. She was crying and when she hugged me my cheek came out of the embrace all wet. I held back my tears as we all boarded the cars and followed the hearse to Mayaguez Cemeterio.
It was a long ride to the cemetery maybe because no one was talking that it seemed so long. My eyes were glued on the hearse in front of us. You could see my grandfather’s coffin that was shoved in the back. Every time the hearse turned, the coffin still did not move, it was a still as death itself.
The sun was shining brightly in the cemetery, by the time my mom had let us actually get out of the car, everyone outside was sweating. Gathered around the giant hole that my grandfather would be buried in was so unreal. I couldn’t imagine him actually gone, but there it we were, at his funeral.
We said prayers and sang. Then one of the guys who worked there closed the coffin and prepared himself to lower him down. My grandmother refused, she did not want him to be sent down. She jumped on the coffin and began to sob. Watching her made my eyes water and there is no doubt it effected all of us gathered there. My dad had to pull her off the black, slick coffin. When I looked up to see him, his eyes were wet too.
My brother who had been holding my hand the whole time let go and turned to our mom. I began to cry too. My mom took as away and forced us not to look anymore. But I still could hear. I could hear the songs everyone was singing, I could hear my grandfather being pulled into the ground, and I could hear everyone sob.
Perfect
She remembers her mother running around the house busy and always doing work. She remembers how she would get angry at anything out of place. If you tries to fix something, she wouldn’t let you, convinced that you would do it wrong and she could do it better. She remembers thinking, just a perfectionist, but always kind at heart.
She remembers dreaming and wishing her mom’s stress would go away, because maybe things would change. She remembers her mom calling her only a dreamer, saying that she lived in a fantasy world. But her mom didn’t know all her dreams were about her. Her dreams with her mother with arms wide opened saying those three special words t hat can make anything heal. She held her so tight, never wanting to let go, but she knew she had to wake up and it was all a dream.
But she remembers times when just before bedtime her mother would come and sing to her and while she sang she would brush the hair out of her eyes. She remembers when her mom was done pushing her hair back, she would shake her head and let her hair fall over her eyes again, just so she can continue brushing it.
She remembers when her mom baked Christmas cookies, how she would always critize her own cookies, but everyone else loved them. She thought they were perfect.
Spill
I walked into the kitchen to get lunch. I grabbed a bowl and walked over o the stove. Pots and pans lined up evenly somewhere filled with rice, some with beans. I grabbed the giant spoon-looking device and used it to scoop up rice and plop it on my bowl. Then I splattered beans over the rice carefully, but not carefully enough.
I accidently spilled some beans on the beige counter top. It wasn’t the biggest mess I ever made and of course I wouldn’t just leave it there, so I grabbed some paper towels and was about to clean up the splatter when my mom walked in the kitchen and almost had a heart attack.
My mom always had her way of overly acting when something went wrong.
She wouldn’t give you a chance to explain and by the time the mess was cleaned up, the queen herself banished you out of her kitchen.
I thought about saying, I’ll clean it! But why bother when I knew I wouldn’t get the chance. I accept my punishment and lived my exile from the kitchen in peace.
Invisible
The aroma of boiled vegetables and roast beef pervade the air. The sound of a knife slicing through fresh onions and peppers that my mom had only bought yesterday lured me into the kitchen. When they were all sliced up she scraped the knife against the board and pushed the vegetables into the burning pot. Slice…Slice…Slide…Sizzle. It was the most amazing rhythm. Once it went in the pot, smoke would rise and disappear in the air. My mother cooked like it was an art, so perfectly and passionately.
My sister sat lazily on the old, green sofa. Her eyes were glued to the television screen, she was oblivious to anything else going on around her and maybe that’s why she didn’t notice me toddling to the kitchen where my mother was cooking.
The kitchen was in perfect order, even when she was well into preparing the meal. There was never a splatter on the counter or a spill on the stove. Nothing was ever out of place.
I, with wondering eyes, would stare at the giant pot, steam would race to the top and you could always hear bubbles popping inside. To me that was Pandora’s box and I was Pandora.
The sweet smell filled my body with peaceful thoughts, like nothing could go wrong. My small hand extended itself and reached for the pot slowly, so close that my palms were already feeling the heat and burn. I expected yells, feet stomping on the ground trying to get to me on time, but no there was only silence. Except for the rhythmic knife making its way through the pepper. Finally, I stopped my hand from proceeding, only an inch or two away from Pandora’s box.
I turned my head away from the pot and spotted my mother by the sink. The knife was still in her hand; showing no mercy on the pepper she was cutting. I skipped over to her and tugged on her pants. She looked down at me and stopped cutting but didn’t release the knife.
My voice seemed to echo the kitchen when I asked pointing to the stove and smiling, “Can you teach me how?”
She dint even glance at the stove all she did was let go of the knife and pick me up saying, “No.”
She carried me out to the living room and didn’t even seem to care that my sister hasn’t stop watching TV since she got home from school. She looked down and nodded, “Nope.”
She said nothing else though, just nope. No “I promise you can learn later, Paola.” She hated making promises, I always remind her about them and she breaks them. At the end we both end up regretting making them.
The odor from the kitchen pervaded the house; in a way you could not escape it. When I breathed it in, I was trapped. I was a small mouse being lured in by the smell of cheese on a mousetrap. I followed the smell to the dining room where there was an opening that revealed the inside of the kitchen.
Inside my mom was adding spices to the mixture in the pot. I stared without movement just like my sister to the TV, but this wasn’t some dumb suspenseful show, it was real.
She didn’t notice me peering into the kitchen. Watching her mix and boil though, I longed to be in there with her thought, Mama’s little helper, I thought, but I knew it wouldn’t happen. The aroma swirled around me, but I didn’t breath it in like I would any other day. I just put my head on my arm and watched.
Completely Outstanding
My mother always wanted me to be able to do a back handspring like it was the most amazing thing in the world. I joined Gymnastics and Karate, and I was good. My instructors thought I had a lot of potential, but my mom was the hardest instructor to impress.
I would do a front handspring or a kick up, but it was never enough. Until I could do something completely outstanding, like a back handspring she wouldn’t care. She would only say, “ Good job, but you can do better, you can be great.”
I understand she didn’t want me to settle for being just good, but I needed support, I needed a sign that I improved, that I succeeded, but I never got that. For me it was always, “You have to be perfect, you have to do the stuff I couldn’t do when I was your age.”
One day, I stuck the landing. Again and again I landed it. I could land it before, but after a while I would just lose it. But this time I had it and I didn’t lose it. My dad was so excited, even more then me. We went out to celebrate after karate and when we got home I ran to my mom’s room.
I told her she would never believe what I could do, but she did. “Is it a back handspring finally?” But she wasn’t being serious, she was just being mean because she knew I would never be able to do it, she didn’t believe that I could. She laughed and my sister followed.
I rolled my eyes and went to my room, just as my dad cam into his room. He must’ve heard the whole thing because as soon as he walked in I heard him say, “She did do it.” And he bent down and showed them the video that he took. But hey still laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. No good job though, she had been waiting for me to be able to do this for a while now and yet, no good job.
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