Miss Universe

"So, we have to leave our apartment, you know, because of that thing I told you about."  
I looked at Rafael.
"When?"
"By the end of the year."  he answered.
Kids say that all the time, and then they don't move.  He was gone two days later.  I had screamed at him in class a matter of days before, something I don't usually do.  Now, I will always regret it, more than I would anyway. 

Antonio arrived a day after Rafael left.  And then, came Joya and Cati, straight from Mexico with no English.  The county has decided that they don't deal with Intensive English anymore and that we have to do it at our schools, whether there is time in our schedules or not.  Whether they actually provide us the materials or not.  Multi-million dollar budget, but you get what you get.   I want to do anything I can for these kids, but here are only so many hours in the day, and I want to do it right.  It took weeks to get these girls scheduled correctly and I still don't have the promised materials.  I am down to thirty minutes a day of planning and teaching seven classes a day.  I am running, running, running. 

I sort of like it.  Though I am done with the county not giving me a damn thing to do my job, I love these kids.  I am off most of my duty assignments and doing what I actually like, teaching.  I have to hustle to plan, but it's okay.  And, it keeps my mind off of Lola.  My baby.  My baby I lost.  

"We're moving."  Arecely announced.

"No," I responded, thinking she didn't know what she was talking about.  They usually don't.  And, my salt block, my child of salt, those are the ones that usually stay.  I included her and Flave-o-Flave in the Intensive English class I formed.  Flave and Joya weren't eligible because of their grade and Arecely had timed out of IE because the county did her wrong.  I figured if I was doing it, might as well include all of the kids that really should be in it. Even if my salt block was hard, a hard child, that often made other kids feel bad.  On purpose.  

"Miss Nicaragua won Miss Universe."  Arecley announced, a huge smile on her face.

"And then, they arrested her for treason.  That's why we had to go.  It wasn't safe for us anymore with Ortega."  

She never told us anything before.  That's when I knew she was really going.  

Christmas festivities took over the school.  I waited with my walking crew on the last day before our break.  The bus riders filed out and I saw Arecely, in tears, walking out of the door.  My hard girl.  My salt block.

I grabbed her and hugged her, hard, crying myself.

"Please take care of yourself."  I said over and over, knowing she was the only one that would.  

You're a Dream to Me

"You poo poo cha cha"  Eduardo's sister announced, shooting out of the kindergarten classroom. 

I keep thinking of all the things our vet told us when we took Temple in for her initial meeting.  You have to brush her teeth once a week.  They make a combo for heartworm and flea prevention that is actually good, you don't have to seperate them anymore to be effective.  They didn't say any of this shit to us before.  They are acting like my dog died ten years ago, but it's only been four months.  It's like she is being shoved into yesteryear.  I submitted Temple's DNA test, just out of curiosity.  It came back, um, pure Pit Bull.  I looked at the rest of my account with the company and Lola's results wouldn't appear.  Why?  Why not?  It kept saying there was an error.  I sat, looking at the printed results I have I of Lola's DNA.  I touched the paper, the picture of her.  

I watched the trailer for the new Nicolas Cage movie while I waited to see Priscilla.   That Cranberries song kept playing, loud.  I've never really been a fan, I'm neutral, didn't hate them, didn't love them.  Over and over again, I kept hearing 'you're a dream to me...' and I'd cry.  I'd picture Lola and cry.  In the car.  At work.  Wherever.   

Temple needs us, and I love her.  She follows me wherever I go, even into the bathroom.   I've stepped on her feet by accident, stumbled over her because she is always right next to us.  I've left her alone for a matter of minutes and came back in, only to find her heart beating out of her chest and her eyes, urgent.  She jumps up and hugs me, tries to climb right up me.  I want her to know that we will always be here, that she is safe.  At night though, when she sleeps in our bed, she doesn't push up next to me.  She sleeps alone, in a little ball at the foot of the bed.  And, she can't bark.  I wrap her up in the velvety blanket that is similar to the one Lola had, but in a different color.  

Papi and I went to see Liz Phair.  It was at the ASO site and she played the whole Guyville.  It was good, but another illuminating look at how old we are and how old everyone else is, too.  The songs seemed different, much different than when we tore that tape up nearly thirty years ago.  

It's Christmas Eve
in the drunk tank
you won't see another one
an old man said to me
.........
I turned my face away
and dreamed about you

I dreamed about you, Lola.  I dreamed about you.  

*Lyrics, Shane MacGowan, Fairytale in New York.  And Lola, I love you baby.   

The Moon

There are differences between Lola and Temple.  Temple's ears are a little thicker than Lola's were.  Her tail is, too.  Her fur is silkier and her eyes a little closer together than Lola's.  When she first came, I noticed every little difference but now, Temple is starting to feel 'normal'.  I am afraid that Lola is going farther away, it's like I'm always losing her more.  I think of when Lola and I drove back from Mexico together.  I hear people call their dogs their best friend or their companion or a variety of other things.  I don't know what I would call Lola.  I usually just called her the love of my life, kind of as a joke but actually en serio.  Sometimes I have this mental vision when I walk Temple, it's strange and I don't know where it comes from. We are walking through some sort of hellscape and she is with me, beside me and we are on a mission to destroy, enveloped in scorched-earth grief.  She's like my post apocalyptic companion. 

 

"You a toilet." Eduardo's sister stated as we walked up the hill during dismissal.
"You're a bathtub."  I answered.  

She giggled furiously.
"You a sink."  she responded.

"You're a toilet paper roll."

She shrieked.

It's a little thing we do, all the way up the hill.  She insists on holding my hand.  

"It's weird.  I'll think I'm doing okay and suddenly something will trigger me and I feel awful.  Once it was the moon.  THE MOON.  I didn't think that would be a trigger, but I was looking at it when I found out he died."
I wanted so badly to agree with my co-worker's sentiment.  It described my experience with Lola's death so precisely.  I will realize I am actually not feeling bad and then a dagger-like memory comes to me.  I can't walk down the hill at work in the afternoon without thinking of getting that phone call.  The hill is a trigger, or a book about a cloud, it can be things that are so random.  But I didn't say anything.  No one wants you to compare your dog's death to the death of a family member.  

"You a chicken nugget."

"You're a chicken thigh."

"You a bush."

"You're a tree."

She lets out crystalline giggles, all the way up the hill.  

I had to administer a standardized test to a particularly difficult kid this week.  He is not one of my students.  Three mornings in a row, sitting in my trailer with this kid whining and complaining, fake crying, being rude.  Dismissing me when I came to get him for testing, telling me he'd be ready in thirty more minutes.  Like I was his fucking servant.  Wasting my time.  I received two Intensive English kids that I am trying to prepare for but instead, my schedule was being dictated by a fucking brat.  Telling me he would hurry and finish his test so that he wouldn't have to hear my voice anymore when I wasn't even talking.  All I could think was yes, please hurry and get the fuck out of my face.  I understand this kid has a documented condition, but it didn't stop me from thinking some pretty dark thoughts.  

"You a house."
"You're a garage."
"You a apartment."
"You're a trailer."

More giggles.  

I actually start to think I might be the most hilarious person ever.  

An unpleasant neighbor of mine got sentenced to ten years in prison.  It was a nice little pick me up. 

I walked down the hall at the beginning of dismissal, collecting my walkers.  Eduardo's sister shot out of her classroom .
"You a chicken wing pig."  she announced, grabbing my hand and dragging me down the hall.  

Days of the Dead

I had one of those dreams that is happening right until you wake yourself up.  I was opening the gate to take Temple on a walk and suddenly, Lola was right behind us.  But, she was a ghost and she couldn't come.  She couldn't come on the walk.  But she wanted to.  

The day I picked up her ashes was bizarre.  I arrived at the pet crematory, a place that I don't even like to glance at when I drive past, even on a good day.  I told them my name.  They had texted me earlier, and asked if I wanted Lola cremated with her furry purple blanket.  Originally I said yes, then asked them if it was possible to save it for us.   

The lady at the desk looked at me and asked me exuberantly how the first week of school was.  I glanced down at my work t-shirt, realizing how she knew I was a teacher.
"Awful."  I responded.
She snorted at me with disapproval.  
"My dog died."  I responded, staring at her right in the face and starting to cry.  Hence my presence here, idiot.  

She sprinted around the desk and forcibly started hugging me.  I was actively pulling away and she actively decided that she was going to hug me.  It would have been funny if it wasn't so ridiculous.  I guess it is funny because it's ridiculous.  

"So, were they able to save the blanket?"  I asked, gripping the desk in an attempt to remove myself from her fucking rape hug.  She removed herself quickly from my body and ran back around the desk.

"I don't have any record of this."  she said coolly.

Suddenly, someone was all business.  

"Look, I can show you the text, I just wanted to know....."  I responded.  

Another lady burst out from the back and handed me the blanket in a plastic bag with Lola's name on it.  And, she handed me the box of Lola's ashes.  Apparently, I bought a rosewood box.  I could feel her ashes slide around inside while I carried it.  It was unsettling.  Is unsettling.   

It's been almost three months.  

The Cloud

As I walked up to my classroom trailer, I saw a Praying Mantis on the rail of the porch-ramp thing.   I immediately texted Alec, trying to find out what it meant.  Some people said it was a good omen, others, a sign of death.

I used to have the voicemails from Lola's vets saved on my phone.  The ones that said she was cancer-free.  I saved them for years, just to reassure myself that she was okay.  In August, they were followed by one that said something was very wrong with Lola.  Sometime in the last two months, I deleted all of the messages.  I'm not sure when.  Things are just not in a linear order for me right now.  

During pre-planning, I dropped a framed picture I have of Alec and Lola that I keep at my desk.  Some bejeweled pieces fell off the frame.  I remember being horrified and tried to glue them back on.  Now I see it as an omen.  

"Okay, good people."  I announced, while handing out ring pops.
"Eat these now or put them in your pocket to save for home because, you know, we aren't really supposed to have candy in school."  

"Yeah, but we don't really follow the rules."  Albinus responded, a little blue-toothed smile on his face.  I burst out laughing.  It's true he has never really been much of a rule-follower.  

For the last few years, I have been growing big Mexican marigolds from seed.  They always seem to come into their full glory around the first of November, coinciding with Day of the Dead.   This year, one bloomed early.  It bloomed on the day that Lola died.  

My memories of Lola feel like sharp shards of glass.  Certain music makes me think of her, music that sounds like it's from outer space, music that sounds alienating.  And the little sharp shards cut really deep.  

I entered the classroom to pick up my second-graders while they were finishing some kind of spelling test.

"Use 'burn' in a sentence."  the teacher instructed.  

I glanced down at Adrien's paper.  

"Burn the house down."  was written on it.  

For such an angelic looking kid, I did like his contrary sensibility.  

There is a picture of Lola that I can't find.  It's a picture of her face when she first woke up one morning.  Her dog sitter took it, one of the few times we went out of town without her.  Lola was gazing at the dog sitter, her face full of love.  I can't find the picture anywhere, no matter how many times I search.  

We made an appointment with Lola's vet for Temple.  We thought it would be a good idea, just to make sure she hadn't missed anything she needed while in the shelter.  As the appointment grew closer, I realized I was dreading it.  By the afternoon of the appointment, I found myself sitting in my fourth graders' classroom, thinking about how much I did not want to go into that vet's office again.  The last time I was there, I took Lola from them to transfer her to the overnight animal hospital.  They thought it was just a precaution.  Hours later, the animal hospital told me she had end-stage lung cancer and offered to put her asleep.  I kept thinking Lola's vet would find something wrong with Temple.  In my mind's eye, I kept imagining the vet saying I'm sorry, Hilary.  This dog does not have long to live.  

I got near the end of my kindergarten read-aloud of "Lizzy and the Cloud".  Lizzy let the cloud go, she was trying to do the right thing, the cloud needed the sky, a big space to live in.  But when it rained, she missed him.  

"and if she every spotted a particularly fluffy cloud,"  I read.

"she would wave...."  

I realized my voice was catching in my throat.  I turned my head, trying to stop the tears I could tell were forming. 

"Just in case...."  I finished, crying.

Just in case it was him.  Just in case she might maybe see him one more time.  

The Pouring Sun

We pulled into the driveway and I took Temple into the backyard.  She immediately rolled on her back with her legs in the air with an expression I can only call a dog smile on her face.  Then, she stood up and hugged me.  She wrapped her arms around my waist and stood there for a very long time.  Then, she started running and jumping around the yard, launching herself off of retaining walls that Lola wouldn't even think about.  

I realized that though the shelter thought she was two years old, this dog was definitely a puppy.  A really pretty, soft puppy.  I couldn't believe that she was just one in a million at the shelter.  I looked at her little ankles.  They didn't have radiation scars like Lola's did.  They were silky and pristine.  Her body shape reminded me of Lola, but she was literally less than half the size of my baby.  It was odd, she felt different.  

That night, she jumped on our bed.  We set up the bed the shelter gave us, but she launched onto the memory foam that is honestly, intoxicating.  Alec and I had already discussed the sleeping arrangements.  Lola was our dog and she slept in our bed with us.  If the new dog wanted in, we weren't going to say no, but we weren't encouraging it.  Temple made a quick decision and it was that night, around two in the morning, when I woke up with her sitting upright between Alec and me, just sitting there, straight up.  

I woke up again later.  It was odd looking at this little dog, laying in such a similar position as Lola, but so small.  She had her little blanket pulled up on her and she laid with her legs straight out, like a square.  But so little, and self-possessed.  

October is my favorite month of the year.  The cooling temperatures, Halloween, changing leaves.  Lola loved it, too.  As soon as the air got cooler, she would get very wily but also, reflective, on her Coolaroo in the backyard.  We took Temple on walks.  I liked walking with this dog, and walking with Alec.  I noticed him smiling, charmed by her.  

I woke up the next night and Temple's head was laying on the pillows between Alec's and mine.  I had a three day weekend, when I figured I could try to acclimate her to our house.  I kept feeling guilty about how excited I was to be near her.  Then, one day I just felt guilty and cried all day.   The little dog laid with me on the bed, the way Lola used to when things weren't going well.  

"Do you think we should adopt her?"  Alec asked.
"I think I'm there."  I responded.
"I mean, how would we feel if someone just applied and took her from us?  Could we trust it?  What if they abandoned her a couple of years later?"  he continued. 
"I know.  And we know that would never be us.  But where does this all lead?"  I asked, starting to cry.
"Laying on the floor with another dog that dies."  I whispered.  

I still just keep crying.   I went to Los Angeles a month ago.  It was a trip that was planned before we knew Lola was passing.  My sister and I would arrive on the eve of the Grito, Mexican Independence Day, hang out in a city I like though everyone tells me I shouldn't, and see the closing night of The Pixies tour at the Hollywood Bowl, with Modest Mouse and Catpower opening.  It was overcast the whole time we were there.  It sort of fit my mood.  We stayed downtown, between Olvera Street and Chinatown, any area that I don't think is very popular with tourists.  One day, we walked miles to go to a Mexican vegan place.  We crossed over the bridge where the Grease race scene and parts of Repo Man were filmed.  We walked forever, under the gray sky, dodging unhoused people and human feces.  It was my favorite part of the trip.  I keep listening to Frank Black's first album and everytime I hear "Los Angeles", I cry and think of Lola.  

I filled out the application to adopt Temple on October 9th, two months to the day that we lost Lola.  I found Temple on February 9th.  We were approved later that afternoon and now Temple is ours.  

She is our dog. 

Temple

I woke up in the night.  Temple was sitting straight up, solemnly, right between Alec's and my shoulders.  She looked very serious. 

I filled out an application a little over a week ago to try to foster the dog I found last February running through the bus lane at work.  I wanted to just volunteer and check on her, but the process took such a long time that I just filled out the foster application.  Alec and I knew we weren't ready, but decided that us at half-mast was better than the dog living in the shelter.  I kept getting notices about death-row dogs, dogs that were about to be put down, and I still felt like I had an obligation to the dog I found eight months ago, before all the others.  I felt bad thinking of the new dog.  She deserves someone who loves her like we love Lola, but we still decided it was better if she was out of the shelter.   I have been following her for eight months on the shelter's website and have felt awful every day when I drive past that place on the way home from work. 

 

"You know that once people foster dogs, they never get rid of them."  Alec mentioned.
"Yeah.  I know.  We'll walk her around with the little 'adopt me' thing on her, but I know."  I answered.

Our application was approved quickly.  I realized I was excited about bringing her home and then, felt guilty.  We put all of Lola's things in the Bird Room, because we didn't know how we would feel if a random dog laid on Lola's things or chewed them up.  I left work fifteen minutes early and drove to the shelter.  They brought her out and she looked almost the same as she did eight months ago.  A skinny PitBull, noticeably smaller than Lola, less than half her size.  It felt perfuntiary, the dog dragged me around on the leash for a while and I said I was taking her home.  There weren't really decisions to be made, we had already made them.  The dog could have bit me, but we still had already made up our minds.   
"How do you think she will do in a crate for a few hours tomorrow?  We have to work and then our dog walker will come in the afternoon."  I asked.
"Oh, she'll be fine.  She's been in a crate for eight months.  She really hasn't left here."  the coordinator answered.  

"She's not in one of those big kennel rooms?"  I asked.  

"No.  We don't have room.  She's in a crate like those."  she indicated, pointing at a stack of wire crates.  

The people at the shelter were really happy and clapping for the dog they called Temple.  They loaded up the car with a huge bed, food, toys and all kinds of things.  I secured the dog with one of Lola's carabiners in the back seat and we took off.  As I drove away, I watched Temple look out of the window, almost like a person who had never been outside before.  She sat while she looked.  We left behind the Dollar Trees and Auto Zones and derelict buildings and hit the highway.  

She had a little Halloween collar on, and a tag that said she belonged to the shelter, not us.  We drove very fast.  

My Best Girl

I had a dream.  Lola was on the bed with me, curled up, asleep.  A light dust of green moss coated her.  It was like if you had left a jacket outside for a few days in the rain.

I woke myself up saying no, no no.  No.  

I wake up on Saturdays and throw up and cry.  Then, I go back to bed.  

I know it is crazy.  I know it is bad.  I am in a heavy depression.  I try my best at work and home but this is awful.  My baby should not have gone this way.  And, it kills me.  Kills us.  

We had our twenty-seventh anniversary recently.  I bought fancy booze,  even though we said "no gifts".  He bought me pretty earrings, even though we said "no gifts".  And then, we just sat there at the kitchen table, going over what we could have done to make Lola not die.  

That's all I have.  I miss my baby.  My big, warm girl.  My hot furnace snuggler.   I still think, over and over, of the time I carried her as a puppy.  I laid under the oak trees in Grant Park and put her on my chest,  She slept, pushing her nose to my neck. 

All I could think was, ten more minutes, please give me ten more, any more, any more minutes.  I could have laid there forever.  

September Girls

I walked down the hill by the school after dropping my walkers off at the corner.  The hill I walked down when I found out Lola was really sick.  One of the school buses was pulled off to the side and the driver was screaming at the kids to stop whatever they were doing. Whatever they were doing can really be anything:  fighting, sexually harassing each other, watching porn on their phones, vaping, I can continue if you want.  Just about anything bad you can think of happens on the bus.  The driver got the kids to sit down and turned to walk to the front of the bus.
"Fuck you, asshole."  one of the fourth graders hissed, the minute the man turned around.  

I kept walking down the hill.

I am not feeling this school year.  

Little snippets from the last month jump into my head at random times.  Putting my hand on the side of the euthanasia doctor's hearse-like SUV before she drove away with my baby.  Covering her head with the blanket, kissing her nose.  How pale her gums were the last day.  The fact that we thought palliative care was an option, how unbelievable it was to be told our dog had hours to live when we thought everything was fine.  

This kid in one of my classes tried to recruit me to be a Jehovah's Witness.  It has happened before.  I am actually a little flattered, but not interested.

"Jehovah tells us if we believe in him, the world will be better."  he informed me, before telling me the website where I could get more fun facts.  I still have the JW card with the website in my wallet with Baby Gustavo's mom's number on it.  

"You know, that's a nice sentiment."  I responded.

"Thank you for telling me that."

He smiled brightly.  

I've been having to work with Arecely a lot this year.  All of my nice, newcomer kids went to middle school and I am stuck with the prickly one.  The mean one.  I am sort of okay with it.  She's sour as hell, refuses to speak English even though she can and has a permanent scowl on her face.  She's mean to me, mean to everyone.  We are together a lot, me walking through the school with this giant block of salt.  We sat in the trailer one morning when her journey came up.  How her "uncle" brought her in a vehicle with blacked out windows that didn't open, all the way from Nicaragua.  How she entered through Texas and was separated from this person and put in one of the centers, alone.  

"Why weren't you with your parents?"  I asked.

"They were already here."  she answered.  

"Where is your uncle now, did they deport him?"

"He's working....somewhere."  she answered.

"Were you afraid all by yourself in that center?"

"No." she answered defiantly.

"No."

I'm okay with being with the prickly one.  Your heart gets broken by warm, furry things.  And before you lecture me, yes, I understand why she's acting the way she is.    

I left work late, right when the middle school bus was letting off at the corner by my work.  I saw Eduardo walking home. I wanted to yell out at him, but there were kids everywhere and I didn't want to embarrass him.  The rest joked and pushed each other.  He stopped and tied his shoe and walked away, very alone.  

I am remembering the feel of Lola less.  The absence though is growing.  It is deafening.  It is what is normal now.  When I walk to the trailer behind the school where I work, I have a recurring image of Lola, behind the fence that encircles the school.  Sometimes she is a puppy, but most of the time she is an adult.  She is sitting, watching me.  And I feel like screaming, screaming because this is a place I never wanted her to be.  In that neighborhood, trapped behind a fence, where I can't reach her. Unsafe.  

*Title, Big Star

Quetzales

August is supposed to have two full moons this year.  I think that explains a lot.  

My voice is still messed up.  I haven't been taking cold medicine, but I feel like I'm walking around in a bubble.  My head is a fog.  I can't really focus on anything.  I'm weirdly detached, which is a relief.  Sometimes I notice I'm slumping.  It's like there aren't bones in my body.  

It's been busy since my life died and I took three days off during the first week of school.  I had to screen Eduardo's little sister for English services.  She's cute.  When she gets excited, a mix of words come out, all of the English and Spanish at one time.  She told me some wild story about an aguila attacking their pollitos, and her brother came to the rescue.  
"Eduardo."  I said.
"I know him."

"He puts pictures of a Guatemalan bird all over the house...."  she answered.

"Quetzal."  I responded.

"It's a Quetzal."

I was sitting in the trailer at 7:30 in the morning, looking at pictures of Lola on my phone.  I heard a knock on the door.  I had no idea who it might be.  I opened the door and saw Eduardo standing there.  I kind of screamed and hugged him.

"How are you?"  I exclaimed, in English.

He looked at me a little blankly and we started speaking in Spanish.  Middle school was going well.  His classes were easy and his new ESOL teacher was nice.  Many of our group from last year are in his classes this year.  He looked at me a little cautiously when I clearly couldn't even think of the names of our group from last year.

"My dog died." I told him.

I started to cry.

He looked baffled and pointed at the pictures of Lola on the walls behind my desk.  

"Yeah." I said and turned around to get myself together.  

"So, tell me about this aguila and the pollito attack."  I continued.  

He told me the story about chasing the hawk off of their chicken.  That it died anyway a day later and that he suggested to the family that they just eat it.  

He looked good.  He had new glasses and a new haircut.  He had little jeans on and a new long sleeved t-shirt.  New shoes.  He looked like a normal sixth grader, less migranty, no longer wearing Goodwill cast offs and a heavy coat.  He checked his digital watch.  He saw me notice and smiled.  

"I have a new friend.  From Cuba.  Only been here two months."  he told me.  

"That's great!"  I responded.  

"You should go soon, it's almost time for your bus."  I told him.  

He hugged me really hard.

"I'm sorry about your dog." he mentioned again, and ran across the grass behind the school.  

I watched him run up the hill and for once, he turned and waved.  

Afterlife

Alec and I got Lola a few months after we bought our house.  Our first house, probably the only house we'll every buy.  We weren't expecting to get a little puppy a few months later.  Lola was the only dog I have ever had.  She is intrinsically linked with this house.  When it came, she came.  Most of the rooms in the house revolve in some way around Lola.  We wanted it that way.  Even the bushes in the backyard were designed so she could trot by and eat a blueberry.  She made us a family, made our house a home.  Part of me wants to sell the house now.  If feels empty and achy without her.  But if we sold it, it would be like I was leaving such a perfect time behind, something that is just remnants now, a husk, something so special that is sealed in amber in this house, a time when the three of us were a special unit in our little house.  My life hasn't been perfect for the last eleven and a half years.  But somehow having the three of us together, our life in this house together, always pulled me through everything.  I knew I had a wonderful thing, almost like a secret that nothing could take away.  Not a shitty job, not an ugly school, not a mean boss.  My heart was linked to the three of us here, our special place.  And now it's gone.  

I have been ill since I returned to work on Friday the 11th, the last day of the first week of school.  I lost my voice.  It is still gone, just a scratchy hiss.  Hardly anyone knows what happened, most people think I had COVID or something.  Someone even asked, whatever happened better not have been your dog.  I stared back, then left the room to avoid crying.  Another asked, how about that dog?  Again, I just shook my head and ran away.  

Work has always tried to dominate my life.  I can feel them trying again.  It's like they know what I've lost, so now they can have me.  I won't let it happen.  It's bad enough I let it happen last spring when I should have been with my baby.  Or when I was working at the Housing Authority.  I won't do it.  

But what does it matter now anyway?

Lola

I used to be able to speak.  I can't remember when I could anymore.  Now, I can't.  I threw up a lot, for days.  Didn't eat.  But I got up, and then got sicker.  And now I can't speak.  Or breathe. 

My baby is gone.  They made me pick her up in a box the first day I went back to work.  One week ago, Friday.  I put the seat belt around her and sat in traffic, petting a box instead of my dog.  

I don't know if I want to tell the details of Lola's death.  Everything has been such a blur that it is all mixing together.  I can't believe she's been gone ten days.  I'm afraid one day I will want to recall every detail, but won't be able to.  

It started on Thursday, August 3rd.  Lola was lying on her living room bed while Alec and I watched T.V.  She stood up and sort of froze in place, her eyes looking disoriented.  Alec and I tried to help her, tried to figure out what was going on.  Finally, we picked her up and put her on our bed.  She stood and froze again, then laid down, breathing a little quickly.  I called the vet as soon as they opened the next morning, from work.  They worked her in and I got permission to leave early, right after a meeting about how we shouldn't ask for time off during critical days.  Alec left his work early as well.  I picked up Lola and we met at the vet.  She was her normal, spunky self.  Our vet checked for signs of a stroke or seizure, and there was no sign of neurological damage.  She examined Lola all over and decided it was probably arthritis.  We mentioned that Lola had been a little resistant to eating her kibble in the morning, an oddity because Lola really liked food, but that she always ate it a few minutes after the resistance.  Our vet recommended ten days of painkillers, saying that discomfort might be affecting her appetite.  We made a follow up appointment where we were going to discuss acupuncture or natural remedies for arthritis.  

"We just did her blood work May 31st, so I don't think we need to do that again."  our vet advised.

"And, while I was examining her I checked for bumps and she is all clear."  she continued, brightly.

The bumps.  Ever since Lola had mast cell tumors two years ago, the vet has been screening her with X-rays every three to six months for a recurrence.   Alec and I regularly recorded any suspicious lump we found on her body, writing it in a little book and reporting them to the vet.  

Our air conditioning went out that night.  It was hot.  The three of us slept on our bed with fans pointing at us.  Lola and I were thrilled when a family friend texted early Saturday morning, saying he was going to be able to come out and fix our air.  Lola followed him and his helper around the yard and closely monitored their work on the air conditioner box.  I finally made her come inside, because I feared she would follow them outside of the gate while they came and went from their truck.  El amor de mi vida siempre quiere escaparse I explained.  My heart pulled when I heard her barking from inside.  She loved being outside and didn't like being left out of the action.  That afternoon, Lola struggled to jump on the bed.  I picked her up, and she let out a yelp.  I felt terrible.  Lola has a strong tolerance for pain.  If she yelped, it really hurt.  I laid on the bed with her, apologizing and petting her.  Then, I got my computer and ordered pet stairs so that she could climb onto the bed on her own.  We are going to fix this thing I told her we are going to make everything alright.  Mommy will go on a diet too, we'll both lose weight and the arthritis will get better.  The following Sunday, I spent the day trying to mentally and physically prepare for the first day of school.  Lola went outside to pee before bed.  When she came back in, Alec and I were completely alarmed to see that one of her eyes was blood red.  Not bleeding, but red like when a human gets punched in the eye and even the white part turns red.  The odd thing was that Lola was acting completely normal.  It was like she had no idea her eye looked like that.  

I called the vet as soon as they opened the next morning.  Parents were standing in line to register their kids.  I left.  The vet said they could work us in after school and asked me if Lola was wearing a cone.  She wasn't.  I took the appointment, then changed my mind and called back and asked if I could do one of the standby appointments where your dog waits at the vet all day for the next available vet.  Because she wasn't wearing a cone, I thought it would be better if they monitored her.  My sister and brother in-law picked Lola up and dropped her off at the vet.  She said they rode like a champ in their van.  Hours later, a vet called.  She had inspected Lola's eye and assumed it was some sort of injury, though she couldn't see signs of anything in Lola's eye or scratches.  She said we could do some blood work as a precaution and she started explaining how she could write up some options and have a vet tech call me for my consent.

"Look."  I said.

"The answer is yes.  No one has to call back.  I agree to all of the screens."

Then, I walked back inside of my fourth grade classroom.  

As dismissal for the first day of school began, I got a message.  

"Lola's blood isn't clotting as it should.  It's weird.  And it's serious.  Please call me back so that we can discuss options."

I dragged my walkers up the hill, desperperate to get them off the property so that I could call the vet back.  I saw a large portion of Eduardo's family waiting for his little sisters.  I was surprised when Eduardo himself popped out from behind them.

"Hey!"  I said, while motioning my confusion about why he wasn't at school. 

He and his aunt explained that he waited for the bus, but that it never came.   He was still wearing his school uniform.  I searched on my phone, trying to find the number for transportation for the school system.  I started sweating profusely, it was hot, but it was really because I was flipping out.  I actually found the number and someone even answered it.  They looked him up by name and told us a completely different route and bus stop than the one they published online for the parents.  I walked with his family until we figured out where the bus stop was.

"I'm glad to see you.  I missed you this summer."  I told him.

"But, we have to figure out how to get you to school."

He smiled shyly, brushing his hair off of his forehead.

As soon as they walked away, I stood at the top of the hill and called the vet.  

"Do you all use rat poison?"  she asked, trying to explain Lola's clotting issue.

"No."  I answered, alarmed.  I feared a certain someone I hate that lives nearby had poisoned my dog.

"Does anyone in your family take blood thinners?"  she continued.

"No."

"I would like Lola to be hospitalized tonight.  You should take her to Blue Pearl.  They have 24-hour care and I just....I think she should be monitored.  They have things there that we don't, they can do procedures we can't do."

I called my sister, crying.  She agreed to come with me to pick up Lola and drive her to Blue Pearl.  When we got to the vet, Lola burst out from behind the door, dragging the tech behind her.

"You're doing the right thing."  he said.

"It's precautionary, but you're doing the right thing.  It's just so weird...."

We arrived at Blue Pearl.  The drive over was pretty easy, I petted Lola's chest while she sat in the backseat like a human.  She sat in the middle so that she could be part of the action, not miss anything going on up front between me and my sister.  We entered and a while later, a tech came and took Lola to the back.  I watched her walk away.  Later, a doctor came.  She started talking to me and my sister like we were a couple.  We didn't bother correcting her, it has happened before.  The doctor started mentioning the weird stuff, the clotting problem and said she was going to give Lola platelets, basically blood, and that the problem was pretty easily solved.  We talked about rat poison and the mystery of what might have caused this.  She mentioned casually that she thought she felt a mass by Lola's spleen.  I directed her back to that.

"So, what would that mean?"

"Well, a dog can live without a spleen and maybe even part of their liver.  But if it went to the lungs nothing can be done.  But let's put that aside.  We are going to deal with the problem at hand."

Holly and I left.  Torrential rains started falling.  Alec called to see if I had picked up Lola from the vet yet.  He was worried about us driving in the rain.  I told him everything was fine, avoiding telling him that Lola was staying overnight at Blue Pearl.  I didn't want to scare him while he was at work.  The streets were flooding.

We arrived at my sister's house and I had a beer on the front porch.  I was starting to feel relieved, that everything was going to be okay.  Then, Blue Pearl called.  I was surprised to hear from them so soon.

"Lola has end-stage lung cancer.  It metastasized from her spleen to her liver to her lungs."

I can't describe hearing that.  There really aren't words for it.

"We can keep giving her platelets, but it's expensive so I wouldn't."  the doctor continued.

"I need to talk to someone about palliative care."  I responded.

She hesitated.

"She can see an internal medicine doctor in the morning.  He can do an ultrasound and give you more details.  But, we can also put her down tonight."

"No."  I responded.

"No.  Give her the platelets and we want to see that doctor in the morning.  Can I get my partner to call you?  I don't even know how to explain this."

She said yes.  

Lola had been wagging her tail and dragging people around on her leash.  How could she get put down that night?  We had to find out how to handle this.  She loved laying on her Coolaroo in the backyard in the sun.  We had to find out how to manage this.  Even if it was just a few months, or maybe she would be one of those dogs that went years beyond their death sentence.  Holly and Steve drove me home.  I told Alec.  I cannot describe the look on his face.  As soon as I said the words I started shrieking and crying.  All I can remember saying is I cannot live without her.  I cannot live without my dog.  It was the first time I would hear sounds coming out of me that I hadn't heard before.  He called the doctor and she explained it to him.  We asked for her to call us back after Lola's next transfusion, which would occur around one in the morning.  We set an alarm for ourselves and called them in the middle of the night to get our report.  They said she was responding well.  

We woke up the next morning and waited for Blue Pearl to tell us that we could pick her up.  I hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day but still managed to start vomiting.  I couldn't stop.  We started looking things up.  I finally asked Alec the dreaded question.

"Have you looked up life expectancy for something like this?"

He looked back at me, grimly.

"One to two weeks."  he responded.  

We drove to Blue Pearl.  I kept missing turns and ignoring lights.  I just couldn't think.  We waited in a room for the internal medicine guy.   I couldn't sit down.  A tired looking doctor finally walked in.

"You're dog is very sick.  The cancer is everywhere.  Even though she just had platelets, her red blood count is already down to 22%.  She's bleeding inside.  She could suffer a catastrophic event at any time.  She has a matter of days."

We asked if she was in pain.  We asked if we let her just bleed what her death would be like.  He told us she would get weak and have trouble walking, that most people wouldn't want to see their dog that way.

"I'm going to let you take her home, but...."  he began.

"She has to be with us.  I am not letting her die in some hospital.  She has to be with us."  I responded.

A door opened and Lola dragged a vet tech down the hall by the leash.  We put her in our car and took her home.  I had put her fluffy bed in the back, because she loves it.  

Lola and I laid on a blanket in the backyard.  It was always one of our favorite things to do.  I would drink beer and read.  She would lay next to me while I petted her.  We liked it.  Alec went to Whole Foods to get her a steak and cheese.  He went by the pet store to get her favorite treats and a little toy.  I noticed how pale Lola's gumbs were getting.  I called my mom and told her Lola was dying.  That she should visit if she could handle it.  I texted her dog walker.  I messaged two friends for advice, because I needed advice.  How do you know when it's time.  How do you know.  They gave me some really good resources.  The one that interested me the most let a doctor talk with you and decide when the right time was.  I contacted some in-home euthanasia companies.  I tried not to cry a lot.  Lola knows when I'm upset and I felt like I had to be strong for her.  I kept petting and kissing her.  The three of us went for a short walk around dusk.  We wanted to keep it short for fear of Lola feeling weak, but she still resisted when we rounded the turn to our house.  The three of us laid together in the bed that night.  Alec and I always used to kind of compete, who did Lola love more?  Sometimes we judged it by who she pushed against in the night.  The last night, it was almost like she divided her time equally, standing up, exhaling deeply, then flopping down next to the person who hadn't gotten her recently.  

I loved laying in bed with Lola, especially in the mornings.  She would squeeze herself between my legs and when she was ready, lift her head with this sleepy face.  I would always say good morning beautiful, precious, I wanted her day to start right.  I laid there a long time the last morning.  Alec made her breakfast and she stood up and jumped off of the bed, ready to eat.  After, we gave her the breath bones she loves.  She wandered around the backyard with a haunted look on her face and buried the bone.  We gave her another and she did the same thing.  We made an appointment for a when is it time consultation.  I set up the Zoom and Alec and I sat in front of the computer, Lola between us.

"She could have catastrophic event at any time.  She would collapse and struggle to breathe.  You would have to rush her to a vet for euthanasia.  If you'd like, I can gather my things and come right now."

"No."  we answered.

"Lola's grandmother is coming to visit her."  Alec answered.

"If my sitter can stay late, I can come at 7:30 tonight."  the doctor responded.

I texted my mom and family and Lola's dog walkers.  If you would like to visit, it needs to be now, I said.

We sat outside all day with Lola while people came to say goodbye.  We gave her frozen treats.  I watched her like a hawk, fearing the catastrophic event.  She continued to jump on the raised triangle in our backyard when other dogs would pass, but didn't bark, which wasn't normal.  Late in the afternoon, she got up there and didn't seem able to get down.  I looked at her face from across the yard.  Her eyes were running and she was panting.  She was looking straight at me.  I remember the time we were in a canyon in Texas and Lola overheated.  I kept walking forward so that she would follow me.  She would do anything to please us.  She had the same face on.  Alec lifted her off of the triangle.  Later, we gave Lola her last steak dinner.  Then, she laid on our couch, dozing in the air conditioning.  I put her favorite purple blanket on her fluffy, two-tier living room bed.  It looked terrible, like a death altar.  When the doctor was almost at our house, we let Lola walk through the house, deciding where she wanted to die.  She hesitated at our bedroom door.  We think she wanted to be on the bed, but couldn't jump up.  She walked toward the front room, the "Conservatory".  I followed her with her purple blanket.  I spread it out on the floor.  She laid down on it, and I laid with her, spooning her, her chin resting on my arm and her paw in my hand.  Alec let the doctor in.  She administered the sedative.  I kept kissing Lola's head and telling her how much I loved her, how grateful I was that she came to us.  Alec was in front of her, looking her straight in the eyes, doing the same.  Her chin pressed down hard on my arm.  I remember when the doctor gave Lola the lethal dose, Alec and I were repeating like a mantra thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you thank you for coming to us, thank you for being our dog.  I knew she was gone before the doctor said she was.  I heard myself saying I know you're in the middle, I know you're in the middle and we are still here...... 

The doctor asked us to help lift Lola onto the stretcher.  That's when I started screaming, when I saw her head flop down, lifeless.  I remember screaming Mommy said she wouldn't flip out, my baby, my baby and hearing guttural noises come from me.  I followed behind while Alec and the vet carried the stretcher out of our house.  Lola was wrapped in a her purple blanket and a big thick blanket the doctor brought.  There were straps around her.  When we got to the stairs the doctor needed help.  I grabbed the stretcher with Alec, nearly ripping it out of her hands.  I would carry my own dog.  We put her in the back of the doctor's black SUV.  It looked like a hearse. I covered Lola's eyes with the thick blanket.  Not because they were partially open, but because that's how she liked her blankets.  I kissed her.  Alec opened our gate.  I put my hand on the side of the car, on the side where Lola was laying.

The doctor pulled out and raced up the hill, headed west.  With my baby, my baby girl.  

The One in My Heart

 

We drove through major cities, over the George Washington Bridge, by the monuments of D.C., with Lola in the back of our car.  We were visiting Alec's family in Connecticut.

A week ago, I was told that Lola had a matter of days to live.  It stormed and flooded and trees fell everywhere.  The heavens raged because god knew he was making a mistake, and he did.  On Wednesday, my baby died in my arms.  Through the process, I tried to stay calm for her, talk to her, reassure her.  When it happened, I started screaming and making noises that I have never heard come from myself before.

My baby is gone.  She is gone and I will never be the same.  

Creature in the Sky

The feeling of summer was slowly emerging, or I was trying to get it to.  I thought back to a museum I visited with my niece while we were on vacation.  It was an unusual place, full of artifacts from old carnival freak shows, serial killers, cults and vintage pinball machines that they let you play for free.  It had a special exhibit about Ed Gein.  I listened while the guide informed us of all the misinformation presented in horror movies that was supposedly plucked from Gein's life.  Lampshades made from skin.  Belts constructed from human nipples.  By the end, I was a little unclear what Ed Gein actually did do to receive so much notoriety.  
"So the skin suit, did he really have a skin suit that he put on in the night and you know, ran around the backyard, howling at the moon?"  I ventured.  

"Oh yes." she responded.  

"The skin suit was real.  But he didn't wear it outside..." she reassured, her voice hushing itself when she said 'outside', as if constructing and wearing a skin suit was one thing, but wearing it outside in the night was somehow beyond the pale.  

"And....it wasn't really a suit...it was like a top and bottoms..."  she continued.

"Wait."  I interrupted.

"It was like a shirt and pants?!  A pantsuit?!"  I asked, incredulous.  Somehow it being a two-piece made it seems less, well, sophisticated.  Kind of raggedy, not like a sleek wetsuit.  

"He collected nine vulvas."  she mentioned, in case I thought Gein was some sort of plebeian.  

"Wow, I only have two pairs of shoes."  a visitor commented.  I could tell that he didn't know what a vulva was.  

"People in the town liked him.  They said as a child he had activities after school, or he played with his mom."  the guide continued.

"That sounds like fun, getting dressed up like a girl all afternoon."  I responded, referencing something she told us earlier that had driven Gein to being an indoor skin-pantsuit wearing fella.  

"So, those townspeople burned his whole house down after they found out what was going on in there?" another visitor asked.

"Yes."  she responded.

"They didn't want it becoming some sort of tourist destination...."

"Who would visit that?!"  the visitor responded, somewhat shocked.  I found myself glancing around, curious if he realized exactly where he was at the moment.  Behind him hung a framed strand of human hair that Ed Gein had supposedly carried on his key chain.  

"Well, god, my bosses were just there two weeks ago!"  she responded, giggling.   

A few weeks into summer, I started getting messages from Eduardo.  I was relieved.  I asked him how his summer was going and he responded in one word answers.  He asked me to send him links to the games we played in class so that he could do them during summer school.  He said none of the other kids were there - no Rafael, no Danny.  He was on his own.  

An old friend came to town and given my social proclivities, I got nervous.  And drunk.  I cleaned the house, like, a lot, before she arrived. Scrubbed everything, laid on my stomach and polished the floors.  And then, I sat in the backyard on a blanket with Lola and got drunk and waited for her to arrive.  

"Wagner, can you help me arrange these retention-appeal meetings?"  a work text message asked.
"Yes.  I'll request interpreters, too."  I responded.  I don't want to work during the summer for free, but I also don't want something random to go wrong and have any of my students get held back.  Or have their parents sit through meetings that they don't understand.  Many of my third and fifth graders "failed" their big standardized test this year, but I didn't think a single one of them would benefit from repeating a grade.  

If man is five, if man is five....

Then the devil is six, devil is six, devil is six

"AND GOD IS SEVEN!  GOD IS SEVEN!"  I screamed with the rest of the crowd, my hands over my head with seven fingers in the air, together with many other hands with seven fingers in the air, forgetting about everything, absolutely everything for at least a little while.  

My phone started blowing up with messages from parents about the meetings.  Very confused messages.  Then, I sat through multiple Zoom meetings, advocating that the kids advance to the next grade.  I started doing them while propped up on my bed with my background blurred so that no one could see where I was.  I could tell summer was not going to let me have it.  

Alec unexpectedly got a few days off.  We found a small cottage at Cape San Blas.  It was very close to the beach and we could actually see the water from two different vantage points in the house.  I love the beach, even though I don't really identify with most beach goers.  I even liked sitting on the floor of the barren screened porch of the cottage with Lola, looking out at the snippet of ocean that was visible.  

Upon return, I was back at Prem's house, reviewing more options for school choice with his sister.  They had rearranged the living room and it now featured a plush rug that my toes inadvertently kept digging into and a big Buddhist altar.  

Later that week, I woke up with a large number of text messages awaiting me, asking if I had "seen the news".  One was from my principal.  I clicked them open, discovering that a fire had engulfed the trailers behind the school.  Behind the school, where I work.  

"Your school library....all of your things....."  my sister questioned, dismayed.  

I sat up in bed.   The local news said there was an arson investigation, given that a discarded gas can was left in the parking lot.  

"Your trailer is unharmed."  one message announced while I rubbed my eyes, wrapping my head around what had happened in the night.  

*Title, lyrics The Pixies, Monkey Gone to Heaven

Daylight Katy

I dug my toes deep into the sand and looked at the ocean.  

I spent the previous day at Prem and Ku's sister's house, exhausting every school choice option we could think of.  I hadn't seen Prem in a long time and he looked exactly the same, except tan.  I wished we could talk more, but he jumped off the couch and went to his room after his sister and I started a detailed explanation on her application about her justification for a hardship transfer request.  Hearing your sister describe ongoing sexual harassment is probably not for everyone, I thought, while looking down at my bare feet.  My shoes were outside with everyone else's.  It was a little warm in the house and it had the same strong smell of fermented fish as Paw Ku's place.  Their mom and Ku sat across from us, mom nodding at the occasional translations their sister gave.  Ku would run over randomly and grab my neck, hugging me and showing me his video game.   I really wanted this to work.  

The sun was really hot and the water kind of cold, but I didn't care.  It felt good.  

I started receiving messages from Rafael.  Though summer school started days earlier, he decided he might give it a try.  I had enrolled him months earlier, with his mother's consent.  He asked me a bunch of questions, told me a bunch of dad jokes and sent me a picture of the clothes he intended to wear.  I asked him if he had spoken to Danny or Eduardo, but he hadn't.  It was weird for Eduardo to be this radio-silent. I mentioned that I was at the beach and he asked me to send him a picture.

"I haven't seen what the beaches look like here."  he texted.

"They're not as nice as Venezuela."  I warned.

"You will be unimpressed."

"So, unimpress me."  he answered.  

I floated in the cool water, just long enough not to be hot anymore.  I watched the various people doing various things on the beach.

"They rejected my application."  Naw's message read.

"THAT FAST??"  I texted back.

She hit me with a bunch of questions about other programs.  I didn't have the heart to tell her I was at the beach, but said that I wouldn't be able to stop by that day. I sat at my computer on the porch of our vacation house, answering her questions as best as I could.   

I got home and unpacked, glad to see Alec and Lola again.  Not long after I returned, I received a message, asking me to call Danny's parents about his Milestones results, because they only speak Spanish.  

I dread whatever message they want me to give.  

*Title, Gordon Lightfoot

One and Only Love

I finished reading "Our Missing Hearts", while sitting in the backyard with Lola.  I did not know what that book was about when I bought it, I just liked the author.  I didn't know she would prick me with one thousand needles.   

My neighbors had friends over and were celebrating Memorial Day.  Lola rested her chin on my leg while we laid on a blanket.  

Instead of silence, she chose fire.  I keep thinking of that line in the book.  Over and over.  

I thought of my babies.  We've been out of school for five days.  I'm trying to get my head straight, but I keep thinking of things.  
Lola's chin pressed harder on my ankle.  I petted her ears.  

The last day of school, when Rafael came out of nowhere while I took my afternoon walkers out.  He hugged me so hard he nearly ripped my earring out.  All I can remember saying is please stop, it hurts.  
It's too hard to be in love, I can't stand the pain... I thought, thinking of a song I like.  Everything about these kids just hurts.  
He made the sign of the cross over me, then climbed Eduardo like a tree.  Eduardo laughed and carried him several feet through the bus lane, Rafael's legs around his waist like a baby.  

I think of the gift Eduardo's mom gave him at the fifth grade graduation.  It was a book of Bible verses, in Spanish.  When he showed it to me, I just stood there, kind of confused.

"Maybe it will help me not swear so much...."  he murmured, thoughtful.  

I met up with friend that I haven't seen since last summer.  We talked about the year while we walked through the Decatur Cemetery.  I thought about the whole year.  Starting with unlocking the door of the trailer and there wasn't a floor in it.  About having to take a bunch of days off at the beginning of the school year to go to court.  And then, the kids just started coming.  I left the Housing Authority last May for shorter days, and ended up at work at 6:45 in the morning a few months later, anyway.  I thought of the fighting Hail girls, of walking kids home so that no one would get their ass beat.  Eduardo gave me his journal on the last day of school.  I told the kids that they could take them home, that they were theirs, but he insisted.  I flipped through it and saw pages and pages of Guatemalan flags and Quetzales and volcanoes.  I missed Baby Gustavo's parents after the ceremony.  They left and checked him out early.  I asked Agnieszka to bring his fifth grade gift from me to their house, because I know that they are neighbors.  I got a text late that night, giving me Jehovah's blessings, from his mom.  And one from him, calling me a great teacher.  On the first day off, I spent hours on Friday with Prem and Ku's sister, trying to work out her school for next year.  And you know what, I couldn't fix it.  

It's been hard for me to get out of bed, even though I am awake at five thirty in the morning.  I don't know why I feel this way, everyone says I should be thrilled to be on summer break.  My house is a mess and my yard is a mess.  I don't know what is happening, but all I can say is that it is pain.  I don't know if I have experienced it this way before, this feeling.  

They say you have to put on your oxygen mask first before you can help others.  The blanket in the backyard is a start, laying with Lola and reading.  

 I petted her ears again.  I'm trying. 

*Our Missing Hearts, Celeste Ng
*Children of the Beehive, Sonny and the Sunsets

Stand Up

Eduardo's mom waited at the top of the hill again.  She started asking about a paper, a yellow paper.  Again, I had no idea what she was talking about. Thankfully, Eduardo's sister stepped in and yanked the yellow paper from her book bag so that I could explain it to her mom.  
I wished the other walkers and parents a good weekend as the school buses roared by.  Kids jumped up and down and screamed my name out of the windows.  I waved.  I slapped Eduardo on the shoulder, because some of the kids were trying to wave at him, too.
"A los estudiantes, te aman...."  Eduardo's mom said, a huge smile on her face.
I laughed.
"Son locos."  I responded. 
"That kid just waved a book at me that I have been trying to get back from him for months."  I said, laughing, while narrowing my eyes at Rafael as he lifted the offending book in his hands so that I could see it through the bus window. 
"He loves you, too."  She said motioning to Eduardo.  Her voice shifted a little.
"Dice: la quiero."  she continued, an almost mocking laugh coming out.  I glanced at Eduardo.  His face was a mixture of defiance and humiliation.  I mentally begged her to stop.  
"He told me he wants to come up here in the mornings before middle school to visit you!"  she continued, the strange harsh laugh coming out again.

I looked back at her, shifting uncomfortably.
"I hope he can visit."  I responded.  

They turned and walked up the hill, no one looking back.  

I've been walking, with my face turned to the sun

Weight on my shoulders....

School disintegrated quickly into days of no one teaching anything.  It started earlier this year, me entering classrooms to get my kids, only to see a movie on and students playing games on their Chromebooks.   I spent almost an hour one day in a classroom with some bizarre movie playing that featured a talking egg that had a face like an old white man, while simultaneously watching Danny and Eduardo build homes on Minecraft Education.  

"Mira,"  Eduardo mentioned.

"I built my slaves a pool."

A cat in the movie started playing flamenco guitar.

"Esta música es suave." he continued, eating an apple with two hands, his eyes darting from the movie to Minecraft.  

I brought my Jenga and Uno cards, not willing to be the one bucking the system, but unable to sit through another day of talking eggs and digital overstimulation.  

Before the sun begins to shine

We're going to start movin'

Towards that separating line 

I'm wadin' through muddy waters

Uno can get pretty heated.  

I dropped a +2 on Eduardo.

"¡PUTA MADRE!!!"  he shrieked, laughing.  

"Cállate." Pway instructed, with a little eyebrow raise.  

"Mira, pendeja."  Danny said with satisfaction, dropping another + card.

"Chúpamela."  Eduardo responded.

"A la bestia."  Rafael mumbled.  

"No tengo nada."

"Maybe you should take UNO."  Pway mentioned with a little smile, handing him a card. 

Pway laid down a few more bad cards and beat all of us.  She and Mya were playing as a team, against me and the Spanish-speaking wild men.  

"¡AYYYYYY!"  Eduardo howled, before running around the table, slapping my hair out of the way, grabbing my face and kissing me really hard on the cheek.  He had a look of pure joy on his face and everyone was laughing.  

Although it sounds insane, it was a really great time and I was so glad that they were happy.  

We stood outside of the trailer, watching a huge truck lug another old trailer up to the back of the school.  

"How are they going to take one of these old trailers away with that other old one hooked up to the back?"  someone asked.

That is when we realized that the old trailers were just being replaced with others that were equally old.  Identically old, and that ours didn't even qualify for a new old trailer.   My kids and I climbed through the construction to get to our clubhouse.  

I stood in the cafeteria while a pre-k teacher husseled her class in for lunch.

"Not ready for kindergarten!"  she called, when the kids started getting wily.  

"Girl, fifth grade ain't either."  Reynold mentioned, shaking his head.  None of the tables were set up and he was sitting there, randomly, in a chair, eating his lunch.  

"Reynold, where you supposed to be?"  Ms. Rainier asked.

"I don't know, they told me to wait on the principal."  he responded, putting another french fry in his mouth.  

I looked at Rainier, shaking my head.

"Reynold can wait anything out.  He can have the meanest teacher in the school screaming over his shoulder and he will still have that shit-eating look on his face."

We both started laughing.  

"THEY FRIENDS NOW!"  she responded.

"Yeah, after she starved him out and then started giving him food again.  Stockholm Syndrome."  I said, shaking my head.

"Yeah,  I saw a docuseries about that."  she responded, eyes wide and shaking her head.  

"On the last day of school, you gettin' a hug, Ms. Wagner gettin' a hug but Mr. T, no hug."  Reynold called across the cafeteria.  

"He funny.  We gonna have to look him up now that he's going to middle school."  

While the clouds roll back and the stars fill the night
That's when I'm going to stand up
Take my people with me
Together we are going 
To a brand new home 

Far across the river.....

I did Award's Day this year.  I usually refuse, because all of my kids are awesome and I'm not selecting one that is the best.  I found out that some of the kids, especially fifth grade, wouldn't even be able to attend the ceremony or invite their parents because their grades weren't high enough.  So, I ordered a bunch of gold certificates from Amazon and invited all of my kids' parents to the ceremony myself.  Like, all of my kids, in all of the grades.  I put on my best version of fancy clothes and stood up there, calling my kids up, one by one, saying their names correctly, while their parents smiled and clapped.  I do not like speaking into microphones or standing on stages.  But you know what?  I did it anyway.  Ku wore his ceremonial tunic.  Eduardo wore his court clothes.  Baby Gustavo wore a suit.  Danny put gel in his hair and wore a jacket.  Rafael put on his elasticized bow-tie.  Albinus looked super fresh in a cute button-down and jacket, with leather sneakers.  Eduardo's sister wore a princess dress.  Ariel came in, for the first time in days.  She had new hair, with pink attached to the ends, and a pink tweed jacket. Her mom came up to me, and told me that she thought I was the only person that cared about her kid in that school and that they were out.  Mauricio slicked his Mexi-fro down and parted it.  His grandmother was in town.  His mother later told me that they recently had been able to get her in the country and that she hadn't actually seen her mother in seventeen years.  I stared at the woman, dressed formally and the Honduran grandfather stood up and hugged me.  

Every year, the Chorus-kids sing a song during these ceremonies.  It's usually a current song, one that they learn.  This year, they chose one from the Harriet Tubman movie.  I gazed across the room, listening to children sing about standing up, taking their people and crossing rivers.  I looked at the faces of my children, that I knew had done just that.  I looked at Lupita's mom, that still doesn't have papers and thought of what her journey must have been like.  At Baby Gustavo's parents, who I know crossed in the at least two decades ago.  

I read my fifth graders names.  

When I finally got to the last one, my voice cracked and I started to cry.  

*Lyrics, Stand Up, Cynthia Erivo