|
Gracias
A pregnant girl sat on the ground, her long black hair covering part of
her puffy face. She huddled in front of an abandoned shed which stood
across from our house in Roma, a small town in southwestern Texas. When
Mother saw her earlier that day carrying a suitcase and moving into the
dilapidated hut, she knew instinctively the girl was in trouble.
Carrying hot cinnamon rolls and a Thermos filled with freshly brewed
coffee, my mother went to meet the lonely neighbor. The girl told her
that she had been ejected from her home when her parents found out that
she was pregnant. Unmarried, homeless, and with no one to turn to, she
accepted my mother's offer to take care of her until the baby was born.
By mid-November, the fierce cold winds began a relentless attack, spreading a
thick blanket of ice. One frosty night, the child was born. My mother
had delivered the baby by the time the doctor arrived at the shed.
Shortly after, the man who had fathered the child appeared. They moved out of
town, and we never saw them again.
Twenty-two years later Mother
had a stroke. She was hospitalized for a long time. One nurse at the
hospital was exceptionally kind to her. She insisted on bringing fresh
flowers to her room every day. On her time off she would slip into my
mother's room to see if she needed anything and to cheer her up.
One day Mother became critically ill. I rushed to the hospital. In her
room, I saw the nurse who had been so kind to Mother leaning over her. I
heard her whisper, "Gracias!" I was touched to hear her express such a
fervent thank-you to Mother. Later I discovered that the nurse was the
baby my mother had delivered in a shed one cold November night.
Lauro Canales
Riverside, California
Published:
November 14,
2005
Categories
Related Handbook of Texas Online articles
Other My Texas stories by this author
| 
