Memories of my mother

My mother, Ramona Burgos, RIP, and I in Hartford, CT, 2010

There are memories that never go away.  Those that include special people hold a most beautiful meaning.

On a day like today, May 1st, my mother would always tell me to go to the Oak tree in the yard and pin a leaf to my hair for good luck.  So I did, hoping for that good luck to come to me.

I looked at that woman that for years I regarded as my sister, and who was beautiful in my eyes: we had the same hair; long and brown, although mine was a little darker shade of brown.  I had her body shape and her features, although my forehead is higher like my grandma Laura.  She is where I got my middle name from:  Laura.   I laughed like my mother also.  Everybody that knows me remembers that laughter.  When my youngest daughter passed in 2005, my laughter was diminished for a while.  And then I have been losing my teeth due to cigarette smoking that I happily quit in 2015.  I have managed to laugh again, but I cover my mouth due to I am still trying to fix the broken and missing teeth.

Back in PR, during my younger years, my mother and I remembered traditions that dated back to when she was a child.  One in particular, "Candelaria day", consisted in starting a bonfire and dance around it and scream "Candelaria, the lady with the long legs!" and I realized that my legs actually looked longer in the shades from the fire... no wonder, I thought... And if you listen hard enough, you could hear other people screaming "Candelaria!" up in  the hills and you could see the fires that looked small and far away.  But it felt good to do this.  Although there wasn't lights on the streets at this time, when you looked far away, you didn't feel alone.  There was this mysterious people echoing your Candelaria chant and that made it alright.  And little Carmen was happy to be doing this with Mom: being part of a history of sorts... thanks for the memories, Mom! 

❤️ ❤️ ❤️