Siblings Secret

18--Alma

March 26

"Oh my goodness..." I covered my mouth, crying. I made the couch my bed, wrapped in a fluffy purple blanket, feeling cozy and warm, "Why he gotta die? They just confessed their love for each other! They better bring—" I turned when I heard keys jiggling and saw the door knob turning. Knowing who it was, I got up from my very comfortable position, might I add, and stood in the entryway.

"Hola mama"

"Hola Hija," (Hi daughter) my mother said, hanging up her keys on the key hanger, taking off her shoes, and putting them in the shoe rack. "Como te fue en el trabajo?" (How did work go?) I asked, moving out of the way as she walked by, following her to her room. "Duro. Comiste algo?" (Hard. Did you eat something?)

"Yeah, I ate," I replied, walking back to the sala to pause the movie I left running. Soon after, my mom came out of her room. She joined me on the couch once she finished changing into her comfortable clothes.

Plopping down on the couch, she released an exhausted sigh before relaxing on the couch, putting her feet up on the black coffee table. Grabbing the control, she changed my movie to look for her novella.

I gave her a look that silently asked if she was serious, she knew I was watching tv but of course she didn't care. "Ve a buscarme algo de comer" she told me. ( Go get me something to eat)

I knew better than to complain, so as any good daughter, I slid off the couch, dragged my body to the floor, and crawled to the kitchen.

"I knew she didn't love me," I said under my breath. Clearly, I wasn't quiet enough when she told me to stop being dramatic. I swear that lady has some super hearing or something.

Opening the refrigerator, I saw leftover food from yesterday, taking that out, reheating it. Once It was done, I poured juice for her and brought over her dinner. When she took it out of my hands, I went and sat next to her, waiting for her novella to start.

It was a comfortable silence, the show was really good, dramatic, but good nonetheless. I don't know how many stories we watched, but I didn't pay attention. The warmth of her small hand as she stroked my hair and cheek, the softness of her lap I used as a pillow—I felt safe here at this moment as my mother's comfort radiated off of her. I feel like a little kid again.

Moments like these I cherish the most. Sometimes, the feeling of a mother she shows me intensifies within my heart that I just want to cry into her arms from this overflowing love I have for her, telling her how much I love her and that my biggest fear is losing her and my dad. That realization was enough to change my attitude a while back. It was not easy, but slowly, I was able to show my love for them in my own way. They may not be the most verbal or even physical affection type, but time and time again, they have shown me and my siblings that their children come first, even if they are a bit of an authoritarian.

At first, I would always wonder why they were not like other parents: hugging, gentle, making our lunch boxes for school, kissing our wounds away, etc. Yet, the more I grew, the more I learned and saw.

We didn't have lunch boxes but almost everyday after work my mom made us dinner, our favorite dinner at that, she would be the last one to eat. Whenever something breaks or we want to change our room or even the color—the next day, our dad takes us to paint shopping, telling us to pick a color and if there is a design we want him to do. I remember that when we were small, me and my sister shared a room—our dad built us a bunk bed, and it was pretty cool!

I think the most romantic part was that whatever my mother wanted something done in the house, my dad would pretend not to listen but ended up doing it. He always listens to what she says. Even now, when they are separated, he takes her side.