10.5.05

Las dos mujeres en mi vida

A girl can only be so lucky. But me, I’m incredibly lucky. There are two incredible women in my life. One is in her thirties. She’s tall with what Sarah calls “swimmer’s legs.” Her hair is wavy, wild, and her gray hair looks like lightning bolts. Sometimes I wonder if she gets a gray hair for each of the amazing ideas that sprout from her brain, but if that were true, she'd only have gray hair. She fidgets. Constantly, especially when she’s in meetings. Her voice shakes when she’s excited. I can’t listen to an Arjona or Intocable song without thinking of her and in January of 2002, me dío la mano in a way that will take me the rest of my life to repay.

The other woman is in her sixties. She lives about eight hundred miles away. She’s short with lots of gray hair. Her front teeth are missing and the teeth that she has left, she calls “clavija’s.” She makes a mean pot of frijoles de la hoya and her refried beans are to die for. Everyday, I see more of her in me, and it doesn’t bother me one bit. In June of 1980, she gave birth to me and it’s something I’ve always been grateful for.

Being on the verge of accomplishing one of my most important goals, I felt like it was appropriate two let two very important women in my life know how I feel about them. Thank you Gabi and Mom for everything. I hope I can be half the women you two are.

5 comments:

Georgina Baeza said...

Gracias. :D

Unknown said...

that's a wonderful way to describe canas--as lightning bolts. i'll think of that next time another one sprouts.

Daily Texican said...

that's awesome.

Anonymous said...

That was very well put. I'm sure you make them real proud.

Oh and whenever your mom makes frijoles de la hoya and your visiting, you call me. Call me crazy, but I love beans that way. :D

Anonymous said...

Georgina, te quiero mucho. You're the best sister.

I first met Georgina when I was 10, I would spend some time every day pressing my ear to my mom's stomach. Georgina would sometimes kick or push me, but I stayed there until I could hear her heartbeat. I anxiously awaited the birth of my little sister. On June 15, 1980 she was born. I couldn't wait to see her face and tiny hands and feet. When she came home from the hospital and I got to hold her, I whispered in her ear "¿Te acuerdas de mí? Te estoy queriendo desde hace mucho." And that day, while I watched her on Mom's bed, I prayed and prayed that her life be as wonderful and magical as mine had been the day I knew she was coming to my life.
--Gabi