One of our Dreaming In Ink pieces was to be about a little girl finding out she is undocumented. I wrote this piece with no particular story in mind. I hope you enjoy.
I hear her excited footsteps as she rushes upstairs.
Screams of “Mommy mommy!” fill the air.
How can so much life and energy fit into one little individual?
She’s only ten and just like that she’s become my twin.
My little sister is beautiful inside and out.
I’m reassured as I watch her rush past me like a duracell bunny her curls bouncing with each step.
Little hands swing a permission slip infront of our mom’s face.
After what feels like an eternity
My mother’s eyes have become shiny crystals.
Her face hides pain, she won’t allow her tears to fall.
Feelings she can’t let go a truth that cannot be told.
I’ve seen this look before.
I just wanted an answer; my sister now wants an answer.
I watch her bouncing on the couch waiting for the solution
to this important issue.
“Mommy will know what to do!” she would say.
Of course, mom makes everything better.
Mom makes everything right.
Mom puts the paper aside and shakes her head no.
“why can’t I go?” She yells.
Her innocent plea lingers in the air like a baby’s giggle.
Sweet sounding bells jingle when she speaks.
I watch my mother strain her hands around the pillow she’s holding.
Choking it while she chokes herself, drowning, suffocating with secrets.
Her eyes turn black full of shadows from the past. Fear of the future.
Her voice pierces the air again, “I really want to go!”
Mom silently shakes her head and asks if she’s got a lot of homework to do.
She’s not listening.
I watch as my sister stubbornly demands a solution, an answer, some hope.
“What do you mean no! It’s only a weekend and all my friends are going. You told me to blend!”
That’s right, my mother told us to blend.
She didn’t mean it this way though, I understand that now.
Mom meant blend as in hide, hide your status, hide your identity.
I quickly remind her that we are planning a road trip with a family friend.
Not to stress. The summer will be great!
Maybe Splish Splash or Seasme Street.
I tell her we don’t have all her paperwork ready for this class trip.
“Maybe next year!?” She asks. Content. Full of hope, innocence.
I just nod my head.
She’s not ready for the whole truth…the whole truth…at least not yet.
Our next Dreaming In Ink workshop will be held on September 3, 2011 at 11am.