Friday, October 31, 2014

even when I don't say it quite right


Selma  pumps the peddles of her little tricycle, bouncing along cracked sidewalks. She waves and shouts greetings to favorite shop keepers along the way.
Now Selma is 7 years old and all the neighborhood knows. . .

 Naomi and I made our way to the flower market on the metro. Roaming the stands, examining mounds of color, we searched for  birthday flowers for our girl. . . flowers that are "bueno, bonito, y barrata" (good, pretty, and cheap!) Then we hauled huge bunches home, again on the metro.

"Mom, hold onto the pole! keep your bag close." my daughter reminds me. It's a Mexico City adventure.

Saturday morning  Selma's school friends arrived for her party; we arranged flowers, crafted bracelets, ate fruit and sliced the little round cake with strawberry frosting.
And  I met some sweet mamas who came with their girls and stayed all afternoon.
Tere accompanied Diana, a sweet 7 year old with a face like a lit up moon and dimples.

So, I stepped into conversation with Tere, "Is Diana your only daughter?"
Ahh, how mamas in every culture share their hearts. . . no, there is another daughter who died years ago. Tere showed us a picture.
"But now I have Diana!" she exclaimed, smiling.

Too often my Spanish fails me in situations like this, when I want to move in deeper with compassion and comfort; I open my mouth and hear the wrong words or verb tense spilling out.

But I try anyway. . .

"Diana is so dear but she's not a replacement for your other daughter!" I stumbled, not saying it quite right.
Then I hugged this mama tightly-- and we cried.






Selma and Diana

2 comments:

Unknown said...

what a beautiful story.

naomi said...

Tere mentioned to me the other day how much she enjoyed meeting you . . . (and we loved having you at Selma's party!)