Katarina, Katarina...

...what am I going to do with you?

Kati sat on the counter this morning as I rolled cake balls. She likes to just sit there and watch me, and in this case, to grab a little piece of dough when I'm "not looking" and quickly get it in her mouth with a grin that tells the story better than any words ever could. She loves red velvet, and these balls are delicious.

"Mommy, are you making cake eggs?"
"No, I'm making cake balls." I say, as I roll one ball at a time. "See? This is what an egg would look like..." I roll an egg for her to see.
"Oh... that looks just like an egg!"
"Huh..." I say, as an idea hits me. "We could make cake eggs for Easter!" I look at her and smile, feeling so smart. "That's a really good idea..."
"I know. I'm a genius."

And there you have it.

Contemplando...

mi pasado... y me doy cuenta de que ya no escribo en castellano como solía hacer antes. Inglés ha reemplazado a mi idioma materno con una facilidad y totalidad asombrante. Observo también la fluidez con la que me expreso en mi nuevo idioma, la misma fluidez con la que pienso y en la que sueño. Y me da un poco de tristeza saber que mis raíces se pierden poco a poco con el tiempo y las circunstancias. El vocabulario que solía tener no es el mismo - tampoco lo es la facilidad de expresión.

A qué viene ésto? A que me di cuenta de que, por primera vez en 22 años, olvidé el cumpleaños de un amigo muy querido, en su época un gran amor. Y recordé los sueños de la adolescente que fui que de una forma u otra influyeron a la mujer que soy.

Por años agonicé con un amor no correspondido, aunque vivía en una relación platónica bella y muy profunda. La vida nos separó, aunque nuestra relación nunca fue más que una amistad de almas casi gemelas. Por años me siguió el recuerdo de lo que fue y las preguntas que nunca tuvieron respuesta - hasta recientemente, cuando en medio de una crisis (no relacionada) me di cuenta de que la respuesta siempre estuvo frente a mí.

Entonces me dediqué a limpiar mi alma de las dudas y las expectativas de la adolescente que ya no soy. Y decidí seguir el instinto de escribir y purgar mi alma con pensamientos tan antiguos como nuevos. Y mi historia se convirtió en la historia de una chica que pudo encontrar un final distinto mientras a la vez se encontraba a ella misma. Y con esas palabras y páginas de una historia que ya no era mía, salvo por las palabras creadas por mí, purgué lo que quedaba de una historia que nunca pudo tener fin.

Hoy me encuentro acá, escribiendo en mi idioma materno, libre de los sentimientos que ahora no son mas que un recuerdo. Un recuerdo lindo y puro de una época en mi vida que me enseñó mucho y que siempre tendrá un lugar especial en mi memoria, en mi corazón, y en mi alma. Un recuerdo de lo que ha de ser por siempre una de las épocas más lindas de mi vida. Es un amor que vive en el pasado, donde pertenece, y un recuerdo que se revive de vez en cuando en el presente, un recuerdo que me hace sonreir.

Si lees ésto, y tú sabes quién eres, gracias. Gracias por tu amistad, por tu honestidad, por el cuidado que tuviste conmigo, y por los recuerdos.

Bedtime stories two...

Reading done, I was saying good-night when Jim came in and let me know the laundry was on the bed, which got me groaning. After he clarified he was taking care of most of it (grateful, proud wife here), Katarina asked why I was 'crying.' I told her because I had so much to do and no time to do it. I said "I have to fold laundry and put it away."

Kat: "I'll do it for you..."
Me: "You will? Ok. Go. Fold, and put it all away."
Kat: "Nah... you can do it."
Me: "But I don't want to..."
Kat: (hands holding my face, eyes intently on me) "Mommy, you can do anything you want to do!"
Me: "I don't want to do this. I have to."
Kat: "You don't have to, mommy. Daddy can do it all instead."

Kat: 2, Mommy: 0

Bedtime... or not

Those of us with kids know the importance of routines, and in particular, the importance of the bedtime routine. Especially when our little angels find ways to stay up later than they should. After baths and dinners and reading, it's time for bed. No excuses, no ifs, buts or whens. And so it goes. We say goodnight, we kiss, we hug. We walk away ready to take a moment for ourselves - sometimes.

There I was, a rare moment in my favorite Papasan chair, catching up with my shows, when out of the corner of my eye I saw Katarina, blankets (yes, plural) in hand, thumb in mouth (when is that going to stop?) I looked at her and she walked in the room. She's so big now... my little girl is growing so fast. The chunky cheeks remain, and in a moment of softness I open my arms and let her join me for a minute on the chair. And so it goes...

Me: Nina, it's time to go to bed. You gotta go back.
Kat shakes her head in disagreement.
Me: Nina, do you want me to take you?
Kat: You have chunky cheeks... (pinches my cheeks) kissy (gives me a sloppy kiss)
Me: Nina, it's time for bed now.
Kat: I can't sleep.
Me: It's ok. You can lay in bed and not sleep. I'll tell daddy to come and kiss you when he's back.
Kat: But then I'll fall asleep.
Me: I thought you couldn't sleep...
(silence)
Kat: But there's still a lot to talk about.
Me: (laughing out loud) What do you want to talk about?
Kat: The United States of America.

Kat: 1 Mommy: 0

Katarina Tree-Hugger

We went out to dinner last Friday. The girls got out of the car, and before I knew it, Katarina's attention was on a used and discarded paper coffee cup. Someone had carelessly thrown it on top of the bushes - which really, really gets to me. People!! Don't litter!!

Anyway... Katarina grabbed the cup, which had all my motherly instincts going "No! Cooties!!" She looked at me and said:

"Oh, oh... someone is not saving the Earth!"

My tree-hugger heart was putty in her hands...