What I learned from My Mami
I learned from my mother how to hold my head up
firm, to withstand the brush pull-back for a slicked back ponytail,
to pull back harder. I learned to articulate my beliefs
and bochinches without a pause or fillers...
unless long gaps were necessary for the story.
I learned that all of my facial expressions were hers first
and that you can utter no words from your mouth and still tell a room you are not having it. I learned to exaggerate my symptoms to the doctor,
so that they may become so concerned, they would have to treat me
on the spot, or give me a prescription, or anything
that was evidence that they did not dismiss how I was feeling.
I learned you can cook rice on a Sunday afternoon to last a week or a lifetime. When you think the clear plastic container is empty, there is another container behind it in the fridge full of more rice that always thought itself to be like a Mary Poppins bag. I learned to appreciate a home that does not move every three months, instead begs you to stay still. I learned how dreams carry over and within another person. I learned to worry
a lot
about the things I can control and maybe
most of the time also the things I cannot
and she has prayers for that.
I learned how to love with no return, to care with the love of five mothers—five sisters. I learned from my mother to look death in the face and tell it: not yet
and then sip on a Coca-Cola.