our old walnut tree. The faded wooden patio chair seemed the perfect place for a loser like me. My black four-footed friend, George The Cat, purred his way into my lap. He rarely allowed me to hold him. He knew I needed a friend.


Again, my Mamá came to my rescue. Our conversation took place in a Spanish and English exchange.


That incident took place over forty years ago. My Mamá’s wise words still echo in my memory even today.


“When did you get home?” She said as she joined me, carrying an empty laundry basket on her hip.


“About an hour ago.” I wiped the sweat and tears from my face and petted George The Cat.


“What are you doing out here?” She stopped by the clothesline a few steps from me on the dry lawn and pulled a towel off the clothesline wire.


“I didn’t pass the college entrance exam. My counselor said to forget about college. I don’t have what it takes to be a teacher.”


“What?” She dropped her laundry basket to the ground.


“Maybe I’ll just start looking for a job.” Again, I wiped the tears off of my face. “Or a husband, like that counselor said.”


“Mija, don’t let that person tell you what you can do.” She unpinned a few more clothes and tossed them into the basket. Her eyes focused on me for a moment, suspended in time.


“I guess I’m not—”


“Por favor, don’t be like me, waiting for a man to take care of you. A man can come, and a man can go.” She pulled another towel off the line and threw it into the basket. “You need an education. A good education belongs to you. No one can take it away. You need to take care of yourself.”


I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I wiped my face. George The Cat jumped off as I got up to help. “You’re right, Mamá.” The wrinkles around her black Spanish eyes smiled back at me. Her short, peppered hair shined in the sunlight as we finished the laundry. She never looked so beautiful as that day she gave me back my dreams.


College was a struggle. I enrolled in almost every remedial class at a city college to fill the gaps in my education. I took a wide range of remedial courses to develop my language skills. As for art


and math, they came easily because I could understand abstract concepts visually. Math was easy because once I memorized formulas, they didn’t change, unlike the fickleness of the rules of language. Art just absorbed me. There is no wrong way to do art.


Ten years later, I graduated with a degree in Special Education and Speech Therapy because I knew what it was like to be a special education student. One semester, I even made the Dean’s List. Along the way, I learned to thrive despite stuttering and other learning issues and became a Special Education teacher and a Resource Specialist.


On my journey, I have trudged through many obstacles like poverty, homelessness, stuttering, and breast cancer. They often appeared insurmountable. Along the way, with the support of others, especially my mamá, I discovered valuable life lessons and found my writer’s voice. I like to think I inherited my tenacity for life and learning from her.


In the last five years of my thirty-year career, my destiny finally led me back to my most beloved grade level, the kindergarten classroom. I returned to the place where I had started my journey as a lifelong learner.


Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. I finally returned home and enjoyed teaching those little minds with big imaginations. But, in hindsight, the years pass through my hands way too fast. I still wish that I would have spent more time with those wonderful little people whose eyes sparkled with such wonder.


Toward the end of my teaching career, I retired early to take care of my ninety-year-old mamá. It was my time to be there for her. She was too ill to be on her own and required full-time care. Back then, I didn’t realize that she would once again change the course of my life.


This was a special time. We had long talks about life, dreams, and regrets during our many hours together. Some discussions were difficult, especially talking about regrets. Life felt so overwhelming that I doubted every action I took and felt stuck. To get some relief, my sisters and I would trade time watching her because I needed time off.


This allowed me to take classes once again to 39


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36  |  Page 37  |  Page 38  |  Page 39  |  Page 40  |  Page 41  |  Page 42  |  Page 43  |  Page 44  |  Page 45  |  Page 46  |  Page 47  |  Page 48  |  Page 49  |  Page 50  |  Page 51  |  Page 52  |  Page 53  |  Page 54  |  Page 55  |  Page 56