Take Me Home

Green Eyes

At the age of only two years old, I watched my father kill my mother. I never understood why until I got much older, but the memories were faint.

My father was mechanic named Hector Benito from Colombia, but after gangs took over he decided to come to America where he met my mother, a Native American woman named Diahla Moss. My father couldn't speak much English which still confused me to this day of how he was able to communicate with her enough to want to marry her. My mother was a florist and my father continued as a mechanic so they lived well off in a decent sized house in Southern Florida. One day my mom came home feeling very groggy and in excruciating pain. My dad heard her screams and instructed her to sit so that he could find out what was going on.

"So...much...pain, c-call..." Before she could retrieve her words my father was loading her into the car and sped off toward the nearest hospital. Her usual beautiful tan skin was now red and flushing which made my dad speed up not knowing at all what was going on with her.

Doctors rushed her toward the emergency room and began asking my father questions about what happened prior to their arrival.

"She-she came in the house clutching her stomach, she couldn't tell me what was going on," he replied with a thick accent. The doctor instructed him to wait in the hall until they found out what was going on. Flabbergasted, he did as he was told. Six hours of hype later, the doctor approached him with a worried look on his face.

"Que? What is wrong with her?"

"Well first off I'd like to say congratulations to you Mr.Benito, it's a girl." My dad just looked at him with a frozen expression.

"She...had baby?"

"Yes sir, based on your expression I guess you had no idea," he grinned slightly.

"No, we did not. Is she okay? Is the baby healthy?"

"Yes sir, your wife is going to be fine, but we have to keep the baby under observation since she is very underweight, but you should be able to take her home in a few days. You can go and see your wife if you'd like."

He nodded and shuffled his way into the room where my mother lied fragile-looking in the hospital bed. He crept over to her restless body and took her by the hand. It broke his heart to see his wife who was once a happy, strong woman lying in a bed connected to machines and a tiny baby that he had not expected alongside her in an incubator. He gently lifted her small hand and kissed it, causing her to open her eyes and look at him.

"She's beautiful," she said, barely above a whisper.

He kissed her forehead."What you want to name her?"

"Diahana, it was my great grandmother's name, it means flower."

"That's perfect," he replied stroking her thick, black hair."Get some rest."

He walked over to the incubator where I lied very still, only movement was my heart beating in my chest. My dad's heart broke into a million pieces when he realized how small and fragile I was. How in God's name didn't he know my mother was pregnant and even though the doctor had previously informed him that I'll be fine in a few days, he still didn't think there was a possibility that I'd be able to survive being so fragile.

He could've sworn my eyes opened slightly enough for him to see the hint of green in my eyes that matched my mother's. I remember faintly seeing him for the first time not knowing who the hell he was but knowing that I was safe and he must be a very important part of my life.

Three Days Later

By the time I was able to leave the hospital with my parents, I was six pounds, two ounces. You could only imagine how small I was just a few days ago. My eyes officially opened and I saw my mom's face, clear as day. I smiled I toothless grin from ear to ear; she was so beautiful.