Just the other day, I ran into the early years of myself. Barely, 4 feet tall, mostly all knees and elbows. I knew it was me, The sun became the smile on both sides of my cheeks. The wind never did know how to style my hair.
Laughter and I were two peas in a pod. Laughing so hard, til my spleen ached in between the moments of leaving home so mama could find another job and a better place to live. Those were hard and good times. Times of pruning and turning. Times uncertain yet worthy of learning.
They were the years the taught me the most resilience. Mama always had a bounce back, (back-bone) spirit. Even now, Mama still wears her smile like its’ Sunday.
She leans over from her hospital bed takes a few sips of steamy Chamomile and says “chile, just smiling, that’s makeup’ enough for me.”
Mama never did believe God made anyone old. Just grace enough to keep on living.
Mama: “getting old was a concept man made. You know, the beauty that God gave, never get’s old. Even when life beats at you or dust-your-coat a few times. So what! You gotta, keep picking up that dust. Blowin’ it back to the wind. If gets down into your eyes and makes your face, get all red and puffy. Wipe that snot off.
Mama: “Crying is the water of life. So if I’m crying, I’m still here. If I’m in pain. My body make a little noise at night . I’m still striving, cause I’m still here.”
I am Eva -former refugee, doctor and a writer. My parents were Holocaust survivors, I escaped communism. I wrote a novel, mixing family stories and fiction. A novel about Holocaust, communism, racism and emigration. What makes people leave, and what happens to the ones who do, and to the ones who stay. I believe these old stories are more important now than ever before.