Getting Adopted
I spent my first day getting to know my new family. I know there must have been some reservations on both our parts, after all it is quite a commitment to offer a home – your home- to a total stranger. I think that they have made a good match. There are two matriarchs in the family, la abuela Magda and la mama Vicky, as well as two boys, Efrain and Jordy. Efrain is 13, Jordy 4. No one in the family speaks English, and so it is up to me to struggle to understand what is going on. I have almost no problem understanding Vicky, and am able to hold up my end of the conversation. However it is much more difficult for me to understand Magda, who speaks quickly and not as clearly. She is a goodhearted grandmother though, and is looking forward to feeding me her home cooking. After lunch this afternoon, she and I sat in rocking chairs under the awning on the front porch. She told me about her hobby of growing orchids and roses (as well as a few other things I didn’t quite understand), and occasionally fell asleep mid-sentence. Eventually we both went in for little naps. I was also feeling the exhaustion that apparently comes with entering a new life in a new place even if there isn’t a time change. My brain feels tired, I’ve been giving it a good workout, willing all of my years of Spanish to come back to me in a hurry.
Jordy is the smallest and most curious about who I am, and what I am doing here. At 4 years old, one would wonder where a strange looking woman had come from and what that place was like; and more importantly whether she planned to play with him while she lived there or not. We sat in the kitchen together eating dinner, and he pointed to everything he saw and asked if I had the same in my house. Tienes platos? (plates), Cucharas? (spoons), Comer sopa? (soup). Si, nos tenemos los todos.
He was very close to his grandfather who died seven months ago. It is a wound that still gapes inside both Jordy and his grandmother. Vicky told me that since the death of his grandfather, Jordy has been carrying around crosses that he makes out of sticks. He also constructed a large one out of rubbery jigsaw pieces, which he placed in the middle of the floor and lay on as if he were Jesus on the cross.
His brother is much more quiet and reserved, though one might anticipate that in a 13 year old. He tries to help me when I don’t understand what Jordy is saying (which is often). When I told him I had a 15 year old brother he wanted to know whether we had a playstation and what kind of games my brother likes to play. Ah, the things that bind us across cultures.
Vicky is a feminist of sorts. She’s been married and divorced twice, and believes in the power of the woman. In fact she even went so far as to say that women are stronger than men. God may have created man first, but he perfected human beings with the creation of woman. She is small, lovely, and works as a seamstress for a living. Tonight I watched her make a dress pattern from an old newspaper. She drew and cut with confidence. I’m sure that her creations are beautiful. They have welcomed me warmly, and I can only hope that I bring some warmth of my own as their guest. I think the time will pass quickly and comfortably in my new home.
Jordy is the smallest and most curious about who I am, and what I am doing here. At 4 years old, one would wonder where a strange looking woman had come from and what that place was like; and more importantly whether she planned to play with him while she lived there or not. We sat in the kitchen together eating dinner, and he pointed to everything he saw and asked if I had the same in my house. Tienes platos? (plates), Cucharas? (spoons), Comer sopa? (soup). Si, nos tenemos los todos.
He was very close to his grandfather who died seven months ago. It is a wound that still gapes inside both Jordy and his grandmother. Vicky told me that since the death of his grandfather, Jordy has been carrying around crosses that he makes out of sticks. He also constructed a large one out of rubbery jigsaw pieces, which he placed in the middle of the floor and lay on as if he were Jesus on the cross.
His brother is much more quiet and reserved, though one might anticipate that in a 13 year old. He tries to help me when I don’t understand what Jordy is saying (which is often). When I told him I had a 15 year old brother he wanted to know whether we had a playstation and what kind of games my brother likes to play. Ah, the things that bind us across cultures.
Vicky is a feminist of sorts. She’s been married and divorced twice, and believes in the power of the woman. In fact she even went so far as to say that women are stronger than men. God may have created man first, but he perfected human beings with the creation of woman. She is small, lovely, and works as a seamstress for a living. Tonight I watched her make a dress pattern from an old newspaper. She drew and cut with confidence. I’m sure that her creations are beautiful. They have welcomed me warmly, and I can only hope that I bring some warmth of my own as their guest. I think the time will pass quickly and comfortably in my new home.
posted by Eva Hathaway at 11:22 AM
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