No Tengo Mama

Estefa had seemed down the night before as she tried to explain to Becca her plans for the following day. Becca understood that she needed to be home a little early for lunch because her mom was going somewhere. She thought she heard her say something about visiting her mother. And so she didn’t think much of it but made sure she was home a half hour early the next day.

“Hola hijita, quieres tu almuerzo?” she asked as Becca as she hugged her tightly.  (Hi term of endearment, do you want your lunch?). Without waiting for an answer she shooed her to the table and told her to sit. Second later she appeared with a large bowl of soup, a plate of rice and a smaller bowl of ceviche. Having gotten used to a work schedule that only allowed her to eat with her family a few days a week, Becca was used to eating a alone but was overjoyed when Estefa joined her. Until she saw the slightly deflated look on her mom’s face.

Estefa threw her a small smile but the sadness lurking just behind it pulled at Becca’s heart. She pointed toward the picture on the wall of Becca’s host grandmother and host grandfather, Estefa’s parents. Becca had never met them.

“Mis padres,” Estefa said. (My parents)

“Aw, si,” Becca nodded, not entirely sure what was going on, a feeling she often had. “Donde viven?” (Aw, yes. Where do they live?).

“No,” Estefa said, an interesting look of surprise dawning on her face. “Son muertos. Hoy dia es cumple de mi mama, muerta diez anos.” (No, they’re dead. Today is my mom’s birthday, she’s been dead 10 years). 

“Oh, lo siento,” Becca said, she was always unsure what to say in these situations, in Spanish it was even harder. (Oh, I’m sorry).

“Ya, ella es muerta, no tengo padres ahora, no tengo mama,” her throat caught on those last words and Becca saw the tears in her eyes. (She’s dead, I don’t have parents now, I don’t have a mother). She stood and excused herself, walking into the other room.

A moment later she returned, she downtrodden but looking a bit brighter. When she sat back down, Becca touched her hand and Estefa grabbed it, holding it for a few minutes.

“Gracias, hija,” she said and smiled something that looked a little less like sorrow. (Thanks, daughter). They sat together while they ate lunch and when they finished, they carried their dishes into the kitchen. When they set them down, Becca hugged her mom,

“Tu familia es bonita y tienes tres hijos biencarinosa y tienes una otra hija ahora,” Becca said. (Your family is beautiful/wonderful and you have three very loving kids, and you have another daughter now).

Estefa grinned and hugged her back in that wonderful tight, mom-hug sort of way. Becca had seen her mom struggle like this before, having lost her father, Becca;s grandpa, too soon. As she stood in the kitchen hugging her host mom, she thought of just how very similar completely different worlds could be sometimes, how very human.