Page 37 of You've Got a Place Here, Too

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bag of my clothes, and I called Mami

over and over as Melody hustled me to the airport.

I comforted myself with the voicemail recording

of Mami’s voice, and Melody’s hand letting me know

she was still there, she was still there.

It took two flights, a long layover,

and a bus ride to get from Alabama to New York.

I went straight to Mount Sinai Hospital

where Mami had been in surgery

for five hours as they tried to figure

out why her heart worsened, and wouldn’t beat on its own.

Tía sat in the corner of the visitors’

waiting room. Her head bowed over a rosary

that she propelled through her fingers like a bike chain.

I slid down wordlessly next to her, and her hands stopped.

She heaved one great big sob. My stomach twisted

into knots as her shoulders dropped.

How heavy they must have felt, carrying this all alone.

Time became putty as we waited.

It stretched long, and seemed about to

snap and break us open.

It clumped

thick and before we knew it

the doctor was standing in front of us, scrubs and mask

looking like she’d just fought a war.

I held Tía’s hand as we waited for her to speak.

“She’s out of the woods.” Tía began to cry

as I translated what she was saying. “We’ll need to run more tests

but you’ll be able to see her in a few hours.” We went home and

showered. I had been in the same clothes for two days.

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