ANGEL WITH A GUM

By Rosalva Ruiz

It was back in 1986 when my family was involved in a car accident. There was a bus full of people who helped us get out of our truck and laid us on the road. Although my vision was blurred by red stains, I saw her, my angel with a gum.

She may not know that she and it kept me mentally stable while watching my unconscious mom on my side covered in blood. On my other side, my sister trying to cover her pain with her arm on her eyes, biting her lower lip, laying there, as her legs were covered in blood as well. People surrounding us, whispering in disbelief as if we were some freak show from a roadside circus. And my red blurry eyesight that stung as I was watching it all.

She may not know that with this little piece of gum, she showed me the empathy from a stranger that I thought was long lost.

She may not know that thanks to this little piece of mint, I was able to breathe while my headache lessened and washed the iron taste in my mouth.

She may not know that it was thanks to her that I let the police officers take me and my sister into their car. It was thanks to that gum that I sat without a fuss while the doctor stitched my forehead.

And the most important of all, it was thanks to that gum that I did not despair when a doctor took me into his arms to see my shocked mom screaming, “Where are my daughters?!”
This invisible me in her eyes understood her state; yet I still cried while chewing that gum.

I have always wanted to say thank you; however, I don’t even know her name or where she is. The only thing I know is… The bow in her blouse made me think of angels wings.

Hopefully this time with this anecdote I can finally say,
“Thank you, my angel with a gum.”

* This is an anecdote I wrote for the “Mcallen Public Library Anecdote Day Contest.”

It will be held on July 5th, 2020 If anybody is interested on participating here is the link.

The forgotten letter

I still remember when my dad got a hold
Of my third love letter. He decided to encrust it on a piece of wood.
Of course the deed didn’t end there, to embellish it, he wrote,”Hija de tigre, pintito.” Which is a proverb that simply means “The daughter is like her mother” of course, he meant it playfully. 
There is a saying in english that means the same with different words.
” the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

On top of that, there were little flowers around it and a small heart on the bottom. I was so embarrassed and didn’t understand the love that my dad put into making that piece of art.
I was barely six, so if you see horrors in my grammar and spelling, you can imagine how it was back then (terrible).
Now… back then, in the middle of our home, dad had a small canteen. There were sculptures all around, from a David to a Moses, he also had some wooden sculptures, most of the wooden ones were either from animals or people from different ethnic groups in Mexico; and of course, just entering the place, that maybe 20-year-old-round piece of wood was hung for everybody to see. He was so proud of it that if people didn’t pay attention to it, he would tell them about it. Of course, at those same moments my embarrassment skyrocketed. 

Now days I laugh about it, but back then it was a thorn piercing my ego. I used to believe in the element spirits, I still do, but back then it was like a law. Somehow, I believed that by throwing my love letter to the ground in front of my house, the wind spirit would use its wind to take it to my beloved one. I do wonder who actually got to see those two letters before the third one. This third one was written on a memo pink paper with my mom’s business logo. I barely finished it, but my mom called me and I forgot it in my dad’s canteen; Hence the all the dilemma afterwards.

The last time I got to see my dad and was actually able to talk to him, I asked him why did he do that with the letter?
He started smiling and said, “It was the first time I saw you write a sentence. It made me proud.” I didn’t get it back then, I guess at 15 years old, one doesn’t understand the deep meaning of things.
However, now days, whenever I remember that forgotten letter, it fills my heart with joy and makes me cry.

Finally free

As she was saying goodbye
The car kept moving
Her eyes kept drifting
To the past memories
The knot in her throat
Asphyxiated her soul
Barely twelve
And she’s set her goal.

“It’s finally here,
I’ve waited for twelve years
I’m finally free!
Free from him
Free from them
Free from those shackles.”

Tears ran down her face
As if shedding her fears
Leaving behind that fake
And dark world.

“My body
finally belongs to me
Not another day
Will I have to say ok
I’m finally…”

She closed her wet honey eyes
And knocked her head on the window
As if knocking monsters away.
Sighed, cleaned her face
And with determination
Faced her future ahead.

Queen of the jungle

Have you ever driven with four kids? Just to give you an idea
As soon as I start driving, the two-year old starts crying
“Please, teta, teeetaaa!” Somehow I grab the backpack from the backseat
Prepare the bottle while driving with my knee
Yes my knee, and pass it to him stretching my arm to the back.

“Mom! Oh no! I’m dying!”  My sixteen year old screams.
Of course, he means in the game, IN THE GAME!
Then again, by inertia, I turned my head as he leans
He is next to me playing again
“Easy there,” I tell myself, breathe 
Reasons, there’s too many, starting with four.
Soon after, there’s a scream from the backseat

“Dude, chill,” my seven-year old tells my 4-year-old
And he keeps screaming for God knows what 
Yet my seven-year old covers his ears and yells “mom, tell him to stop!”

“Breathe”, I tell myself again while turning off the music
Listen boys, if you all don’t stop it now
Even your dinner will go to the sink
So, do you think they listened? Of course not!
Screaming and yelling, of course my two-year old after finishing his bottle joins the chorus
Inspiring enough to think that this is a jungle. Monkeys, exotic bird and even cicadas
Nothing out of the ordinary… “Breathe,” and finally an idea popped up.
“Guys if you keep at it, there won’t be any nintendo switch for the weekend.”
Silence… Finally no buzzing, no humming nor chirping, for how long? Who knows? let’s enjoy it while it lasts.

Creator or Maker?

From creation to cremation
Life, the core itself
Is full of iffies
Love becomes a goal for some
Others prefer serenity in their lives

Then there’s excellency
Which some reach
With tears and despair
And for others
Is like breeze in the air
The most natural thing on earth

Then again,
there are some
That have to fend for themselves
With no studies
Just the grace of God and will.

Although
the path at the beginning
is the same
Somehow with luxuries of the mind
From the bigger generation
Or lack of thereof
Marks the boost in creativity
Of the young fellows.

Then, like a diamond in the rough
If you use whichever tool
The cut won’t be precise
The diamond would be
Of poor quality use.

Now, if you got
another good diamond
You can make the most
Exquisite cuts
The best rainbow look
Not to mention
Higher price in the market.

But let’s not forget
Those loners
Wolves
leaders
Of them all.

Which makes one wonder
Is The Creator
the maker
of it’s creation?
Or is the maker,
the creator
of it’s creation?

Secret

There is a hidden story within my heart
That nobody has been able to touch
This secret sometimes feels like a ghost.

Sometimes it’s quiet
Other times it becomes a thriller
It’s all racket and showy
Mysterious with no end
Just a continuation.

Other times it’s the sunset
Of one’s life
It’s also the glory and bliss
Of that miraculous first breath.

This secret of mine
That’s precious and dangerous
This poison ivy
That’s tangled in my body
That itches
That’s too beautiful
That bleeds
And self heals.

This dirty and crazy secret
That’s part of my innocence
Yet…

Yes, this crazy little story of mine…

Majestuoso

Majestuoso ahí parado está
Anillo tras anillo incrustado
Como velas en pastel de cumpleaños
Año tras año ve pasar
A Generación tras generación.
Su primavera a llegado a su final
Y sus hojas han dejado de existir.

Me pregunto,
Que tipo de hojas pudiste mostrar?
Tal cual pavorreal
su belleza enseñar
Que tipo de flores
Con polen expuesto pudiste tener?
O tal vez,
Que tipo de semillas pudiste esparcir
Sea cual sea, el paso de los años
Se nota en tu coraza.

Algunos hasta dicen
Que leyenda eres
De una bruja malvada
Que quedo ahí incrustada
En forma de árbol
Por eso las ramas pelonas
Durante tantos años
Y nadie se atreve
Cortarte, sacarte, mucho menos tirarte
No sea que la bruja venga a tragarte.

Si, árbol salvaje
majestuoso ante el que pase
Sigo admirandote
Y aunque algo me pase
Decidí hoy tocarte.

Hurricane (memories)

Galileo Galilei what a great name
But the one I must talk today
Is about the Galileo huracane.

We were shut at our house
And our visitors were refugees
My little kitty left for the day
And crying I was there
My old other kitty
A lady to the top
With purring and caresing
All the way to my nose
Took away my sadness
And we waited for our furry friend.
The wind, rain and thunder
Gave me a scare
However, with this little lady
My day went flying away.

After the doom was past
Drapped to the soles
While miawing with all its lungs
The little kitty came back to my door.
So lady and I as well ran to the door
To welcome our little wet furry friend
With all our love.

Our friends left for the day
To find their houses
Demolished by the hurricane.
Family and friends
Together gave a hand
To build up a house
After this great tempestad.

Once again love prevails
Our friends without a house
Are now with one
That’s when one sees
The humble and greatness in people.

During devastation
We always get together
And once again
The sun comes out of desperation.

El Camino Sigue…

Se nos va entre los dedos
Esta existencia con esperanza y anhelos
Se nos va sin ni siquiera un adiós entre sueños
Y el camino sigue sin descansar
Como si al pararse el reloj dejara de funcionar.

Se nos va el aliento al opinar y desear
Se nos quita la dicha de odiar y amar
Nos dejas un hueco
difícil de llenar
Y a la vez con memorias
difíciles de olvidar.

Si, se nos va la bondad
difícil de expresar
Remordimiento maldito
Que encadena nuestro pesar.

Perdón exhaustivo
al alacrán ponzoñoso
Cesan las muertes
Cual aguijón extraido

Se nos escapa de las manos
Su existencia se extingue
Se lo llevan de nuestro lado
Y Dios lo recibe.

Aun pidiendo justicia
Aun pidiendo que reviva
El camino sigue
Y su tierna existencia
A pasado a ser divina.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: