I Was Feeling Nostalgic Yesterday

Yesterday when I was writing that blog entry "I Went Home for Lunch," I was feeling incredibly nostalgic. On one hand, I was dreaming of dancing with a wonderful gentleman. However, anyone who knows me well will know that "dancing with a wonderful gentleman does not complete my life nor my happiness." Writing does. On the other hand, I was thinking about my family and the atmosphere I've grown up. I was focusing on my parents and how they look when they dance together. Thirty-five years of marriage and they're still together. With the divorce statistics, I am proud to say that my parents are still married.

Last night, my daddy was feeling ill, chest and neck pain, pain in the arms, so my mom had to take him into the ER. I stayed behind to babysit those bratty active twin nieces of mine. I would've went if I could've. My daddy is still in the hospital; they admitted him to monitor his heart and to run further tests. I've prayed but I must find my inner comfort. My therapy of writing. So that's why I am here.

Someone may be thinking why I am here at work? Instead of at the hospital? Well, my mom said it was not necessary for me to be there right now because they are just waiting for the doctors. I will go on my lunch break and if things worsen which I hope they do not.

Last night, my sister-in-law and I were talking about my family, mainly parents. Particulary how my mom and dad worry about each other so much. My dad's away working, driving on average about fifteen hours a day and thinking/worrying about my mom at home, while my mom is at home praying for my dad that God will continue to give him the strength to work. Let me add that my mom is also worrying about everyone else. What I admire about my parent's marriage is the bonding. They have their ups an downs; what marriage does not? What I have witnessed though is dedication and commitment. I like to see married people and learn about their marriages because I'm a strong believer that when you take vows, you stick to them. It's not like a promise because "promises are meant to be broken." It's more than that, vows, oaths, commitment. My mother is a strong woman; she is not a quitter. She's passed this onto me. I like to hear her say "I'm a one man woman." Even though she has some old-fashioned ideas I do not always agree with, I value her lessons. I look forward to a marriage of commitment.

Deep down inside, you know where all my inner hopes and dreams sleep quietly, dozing in silent slumber. I'm a Cancer sign, my phrase is "I feel" and my expectations include: being a wife and a mother. Of course, I have these hopes/dreams. Something went wrong with my birth chart because I have influence of other planets. Instead of meeting guys and fantasizing on what type of husband they will be, I just enjoy the moment. Not a Cancer trait.

I had trouble sleeping last night. First of all, my sis-in-law installed a lock on the front door and made a lot of racket with the hammer and nails. The two little boys were running around, making noise. Noise. That kept me awake. Secondly, I was reading Playing with Boys while listening to the noise since I could not sleep. I got into it, I did not want to put it down. Lastly, when I finally shut the book because my eyes were twitching with sleep, I started thinking!

Why did I have to start thinking? That keeps me awake at night. I have to have some Gemini traits because sometimes, my mind is just going - 100 miles a minute. Thoughts racing around in my head like a fast race car in a blurred image. I was feeling nostalgic again. Thinking about my family, my daddy. You see, I'm Daddy's little girl, anyone could see that. My ex was half blind and could see that. We have the same face with the dimples, the same social attitude, the same ugly "modos." My dad's cousin told me once that I should've been named "Basilia;" he also called me "Walla - Walla," after my daddy. What I admire about my dad is also his determination. He just keeps going and going. He keeps driving his 18-wheeler, even though he's sleepy and tired. I am the same way. For instance, when I am studying, I just continue studying and working out those problems. I keep going and going.

I heard my dad say once, "I gotta keep going. If I slow down, I could mess around and get sick. I can't slow down." Sabes que? That sounds like me. Being the crazy college addict, I am. I've been going to college full-time since I started. I am a member of all these organizations; I work two jobs. I keep going and going. I don't like to slow down either. I remember working retail and my family hardly seeing me. Going straight home to a cup of hot cocoa/coffee and my laptop. Online courses. Novels to read for my Literature course. Stories to write - I loved those nights. My daddy would worry about me, tell me, "Mija, why don't you slow down? Take a break?" No way, I am determined. I wonder if he realizes that, hey I've learned from him. A lot of things. I do take after my daddy more than my mother (in some ways).

I do get sick though. Always around Finals or when I have like three papers due in one week. My body weakens and without realizing, I start to stress. My tummy ends up in knots; I can't eat right. The food will go right through me like water. I do. I get weak. I get head-aches; I get grouchy. This is my body teling me, "hey I need sleep. I need rest." I hate the way bags look under my eyes and the dark shadows of circles.

I think right now, my dad's body is tired. Telling him he needs to rest. My uncle Rudy used to tell him, "You need to slow down. Your mind can be telling your body to keep going but your body will be telling you that you're tired and it needs to 'shut down'" Being the stubborn, hard-headed, macho man, my daddy would only listen to Uncle Rudy. Sadly, my Uncle Rudy is no longer here; he went quickly. Liver problem and cancer. My thoughts are filled with prayer and memories right now.

Another lesson I've inherited/learned from my dad is socializing. As a little girl, I was always riding with Daddy in his truck, going to town, hearing him brag about me to his friends, "this is my little girl. Straight A student." Everywhere we went, he knew someone. He'd walk up to them and shake their hands and talk about work on the ranch, the farm, latest gossip. I learned from my daddy that men like to gossip just as much as women do. He talked to everybody; he taught me how to network with his example. Times came when people would yell out his name in the parking lot because they recongized him. I am the same way now. My mom keeps to herself, good trait because she is not seen as one of those "gossipy Latinas who has no life so she gossips." No, that's no my mama. I like to be social like my daddy. I am the same now. Whenever I go somewhere, I know someone. People recognize me like they recongize my dad. Some people will tell me "you're the last Contreras girl, right?" Daddy has taught me pride. Reminds me that everything I do, I'm representing my family and the family name.

We used to go visit with this one family a lot. They had the reputation of being drug dealers and always being in trouble with the law. But they were a tight family; they had strong family values. I was friends with the kids of course and Daddy was friends with the parents and all the tios. We'd go visit them; I'd sit inside with my "homegirl" and listen to rap music, watch her brothers lift weights. I saw nothing wrong with this family despite their reputation. Sure, they had a few uncles in the "pinta," but damn who doesn't have skeletons rattling in the closet? What I loved about this family was the "sin verguenza" attitude. Daddy sat outside with Mr._____ (won't say any names). They talked for hours, my dad drinking Diet Coke and the man drinking beer. My daddy quit drinking when I was a little girl. He quit smoking, too. Just quit - cold turkey. I admire how he did that, and I am fortunate that I never had to see my dad drunk. He was concerned about his health so he did this "lifestyle change." He's a diabetc like most Mexican-Americans verdad? We visited this family all the time and my dad told me "indirectly:" mija, you can hang out with them, be their friend, but you don't have to join them. My homegirl and I watched our daddies outside, talking and visiting. She told me once, "your dad takes better care of himself. My dad's a diabetic and he still drinks beer." I shrugged; I was thirteen at the time, didn't know what to say. They'd come inside and eat hot food right off the stove and she told me "my dad doesn't eat sweet-in-low because it causes cancer. He fears cancer more than diabetes." We had a connetion here with our diabetic daddies.

I still see my dad stand outside with the other men and talk, bullshit. You know what I'm talking about. They can be drinking, smoking cigarettes, and my dad just stands there drinking Diet Coke. I remember telling one of my good friends about this. This friend of mine, let's call him Anthony. Well Anthony drinks heavily, smokes cigarettes but still has a good character. He likes to hear about my family; he constantly tells me "I wish my family did things like your family." When I told him about my dad's social attitude, he was amazed. "Really?" I nodded and he's telling me, "you see i wish I could do that. Just quit drinking and smoking. I know it's bad for my health. i got high blood pressure. Your dad's a strong man. You have a good family." I am glad that we have this tightness in our family, this bonding. Family values.

Like that other family I told you about, they are so close. They stick together. Must be a Latino trait or something.

I wrote a poem for my dad once. And, you know what? It's sad but I forgot to give him to him for Father's Day. I think I will edit it and print it out. I wish I had my laptop here at work so I could work on my stories and poems and bring all together.

I did this photo collage of my daddy and me. Real beautiful with a background of Lake Texana and the sun's rays reflected in the water. A photo of me as a little girl on my daddy's lap. I can't do that no more. He's not a big fat bear of a man anymore; I'm not a little girl anymore. I'd probably break someone's lap if I tried to sit on it with my fat ass! I threw photos on there of my dad dancing with me when I was crowned senorita. Those special occasion moments when we were dressed up. I don't know if I ever told anyone but my dad knows how to dress like a Tejano. And, no I am not talking about some white boots and a white cowboy hat. Nu uh, he dresses like a "gringo" in some ways. He knows how to dress and he loves to get dressed up. Sounds like me, verdad? He wore a gray sportscoat over a white dress shirt with starched Wranglers (slim fit), black leather shiny botas. Okay, they went to garage sales and resale shopes that day and he dressed like that! He loves cologne, all different kinds. He has a shelf full of different bottles from Avon, Wal-Mart, and Dillards. Look at my bedroom and the top counter of my chest of drawers is full of perfume bottles. Fruity body sprays. Musky scents. Provocative Woman. Lotions galore. I wonder who I get that from?