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