Ya se, ya se, siempre linkeando a la Cindylu, but she has some really interesting stuff to say. She was my portal into this whole lantana/o, in her case, chicana/o, blogging world. ¿Que le voy hacer?
Bueno, she talked about the self defense class she attended and linked it to her gas station incident saying that, “I think my guardian angel works overtime.”
I think all our angelitos work over time. Lately, I always think its my dad whose watching over me. I remember that year after he passed away, siempre lo estaba jodiendo. For everything, I’d think, “Please Dad, please…” Now, I don’t bother him so much.
But before that, I don’t know who I used to bother, I guess God. But I know I did have an angelito watching over me, especially that Friday morning in August of 2002, when my sis and I were held up in her house. It was pretty scary shit. It felt like a movie. All I could think was, “when is this asshole leaving?” I never thought to pray to God then because I was too busy trying to make sure he didn’t rape my sister.
After the police report, a lot of crying on my sisters part, and picking up her husband from the airport, we joked about all the santitos my mom had turned on its head and the sleepless nights in which Mom stood in front of the big portrait of Jesus meditating the night before he was hung on the cross touching with her hands on his hands asking him to keep all of us safe. Till this day, I don’t think she knows about the incident and I don’t think we’ll ever tell us or the praying will hit triple time.
Almost three years later, if I’m going to be out late, I always carry an umbrella or something I can hit with. I lace my keys between my fingers, look around and scope out my car before I get into it. I don’t walk to my car all alone. Even if I’m not walking with someone, I keep someone in sight. I look people in the eye and greet them when I pass them by on the street. I triple lock my door and periodically turn lights on and off. I trust and respect my instincts.
But I can’t spend the night alone in my sister’s house, no matter how many resos y angelitos I have over my head.
Bueno, she talked about the self defense class she attended and linked it to her gas station incident saying that, “I think my guardian angel works overtime.”
I think all our angelitos work over time. Lately, I always think its my dad whose watching over me. I remember that year after he passed away, siempre lo estaba jodiendo. For everything, I’d think, “Please Dad, please…” Now, I don’t bother him so much.
But before that, I don’t know who I used to bother, I guess God. But I know I did have an angelito watching over me, especially that Friday morning in August of 2002, when my sis and I were held up in her house. It was pretty scary shit. It felt like a movie. All I could think was, “when is this asshole leaving?” I never thought to pray to God then because I was too busy trying to make sure he didn’t rape my sister.
After the police report, a lot of crying on my sisters part, and picking up her husband from the airport, we joked about all the santitos my mom had turned on its head and the sleepless nights in which Mom stood in front of the big portrait of Jesus meditating the night before he was hung on the cross touching with her hands on his hands asking him to keep all of us safe. Till this day, I don’t think she knows about the incident and I don’t think we’ll ever tell us or the praying will hit triple time.
Almost three years later, if I’m going to be out late, I always carry an umbrella or something I can hit with. I lace my keys between my fingers, look around and scope out my car before I get into it. I don’t walk to my car all alone. Even if I’m not walking with someone, I keep someone in sight. I look people in the eye and greet them when I pass them by on the street. I triple lock my door and periodically turn lights on and off. I trust and respect my instincts.
But I can’t spend the night alone in my sister’s house, no matter how many resos y angelitos I have over my head.
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