[Canela]

I wrote this for my grandmother (Guelita) the day of her funeral...January 14, 1998...this is and will always be my favorite and most poignant childhood memory.

AVER ESA MUNECA…


She was peddling hard on her sewing machine, trying to finish up the last little bit of the colcha (quilt)she was making. The Atlas sewing machine head on a Singer cabinet, modified for her so she would have her sturdy machine and a convenient cabinet to sew on. I must’ve been about 7 or 8 I guess, when I first noticed this gift of hers.

My Guelita, she sewed lots of things. She made curtains of all kinds, cojines (cushions), colchas, no doubt, and even clothes for me. And I would sit at her feet, in front of the screen door, while she sewed. She was sewing a short set (you know, a matching top and bottom)for me for school/play. Every time she finished a little more of it, she’d make me try it on. Then she could see where she’d need to make changes. Usually she’d cut a little strip here, a little piece there, and those little leftover pieces would float on down to the floor. I’d pick them up and grab my baby doll and try to wrap it around her little, chubby body in an attempt to create/design something too, just like Guelita was doing for me. It never worked quite the way I’d hope, but I still tried.

Guelita didn’t talk a lot, especially when she sewed. She concentrated on what she was doing, thinking her own thoughts and only God knows what those were. I was a little girl so she didn’t have much conversation for me. I just sat there quietly, and played with my doll baby and wrapped the little pieces around her and when I got done with that, I’d pick up the remnants of threads and roll those all up unto a little ball. Then I’d look around for something to do, feeling bored and waiting. I hated to wait. But I knew better than to leave from there. I never left.

That day, Guelita finished the outfit for me. Then she did something I will never forget. She thrust her hand out to me where I was sitting, waiting and said, “Aver, damela”, (let me see, give her to me)and even as she said so, I placed my baby doll in her beautiful, long fingers, her hand tired yet still strong and almost regal with her fingers extended in an impatient pose. I placed my doll baby in her hand and watched her as she brought her up to her machine, disrobed her and started to cut something for her from the same cloth as my outfit!

I stood up, excited but keeping myself at a safe distance so as to not exasperate her and cause her to stop. She was very fast as she sewed a few seams here and some there, and a hem and a flounce and voila! My doll baby had the exact same short set I did!

Guelita handed her back to me without a word. There was no pomp and circumstance, no big grandiose speech or even a little word of loving kindness. But it didn’t matter! In that moment I knew she loved me without having to hear her tell me so.

And that day, I loved her the most.