I'm up and running pretty early this morning and can finally breathe through my nose!!! It's awesome, I missed breathing correctly. I don't have anything to write so I'm gonna give you guys a story, un cuento, from my life. It just came to me while I was taking a pooh, so enjoy it!
Most of my childhood summers were spent with my cousins in San Diego, two boys and one girl. Both the boys were older, Junior was older by a few years and Wallos is only four months older than me. They always seemed to be bigger and smarter than me, always making me feel like I wasn't as good as them in school or sports or even video games, which I wasn't(except for school, they weren't that smart.) They had there own language and way of thinking that I couldn't grasp and I always felt as if I was tagging along and playing catch up, they also seemed to have the toughest friends who scared the shit outta me. Conniving, cunning and rouge are some of the words I would use to describe them, not so much fearless, but stupid more or less. They got everything they wanted, they were all over weight, 'cept for Junior and had bad tempers and lived in a small cluttered two bedroom apartment for like 15 years! I loved going over there, I felt like Indiana Jones walking around that apartment and playing with all their toys that they made sure to show off in front of me. Even though they treated me like crap most of the time, I totally looked up to them and was jealous that they had the guts to fight with bums and adults, like the liquor store man that would try to cheat them out of our penny candy.
For all the shit that they put me and my brothers through they were always there for us to throw down and kick ass, because we were familia, family. Especially when we got shipped off to Guadalajara for Christmas, we were all outsiders there, us the Mexicans from el otro lado, the other side. We had to endure our other cousins that could speak perfect Spanish and were even more older than them, so we would speak to each other in English and pretend not understand Spanish and just listen as the natives talked shit about us and what a shame it was that we couldn't speak our native tongue.
One Christmas I've must have been seven or eight, we were in Guadalajara yet again, and Wallos and I weren't getting along as we used too. Out of all my cousins he was one of my closets, he understood all my stories and dreams, and loved to play He-Man with me, anything mystical we both loved. We kept getting into little arguments over what, I can't remember, so we both got in trouble. We got spanked in the living room of our families' compound. I didn't really get it as hard as he did, but I put on show for them anyways. Getting a double beating was harsh, but in a strange land it was even worse, there was no where for us to escape and be alone. So we were left there to bond together with our pain, but I was still mad at him, if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be in pain right now. " I hate my DAD!" he told me. I was shocked, that was bad even for him. He looked at me to see if I would join in, hell no, this old house probably has some secret passage ways and they are probably listening to us right now. I just stood there with tears in my eyes speechless and he buried his face into the dusty old couch. I walked slowly out and ran into the dining room and did what any little effeminate brown boy would do, I told on him. Just like Miss Celi in the Color Purple, told Harpo to beat Oprah. I told my Tio what my cousin had said, I couldn't say out loud, so I whispered it in his ear. My uncle jumped up and ran into the living room and started to beat him some more, where were out mothers?! I kept thinking, where were our defenders, they were out shopping at the plaza, the open market, far from our screams. My father yelled at me for telling but didn't hit me, it would have hurt less to be hit, his tongue lashing was in two languages making it twice as hard. After all was said and done, I went back in to check on my cousin, with red eyes and fake tears. He was very upset and wanted to know how he had found out. So I did what any high-voiced, skinny, thin wristed Chicano boy would do, I LIED. I told him that I got hit again and that the walls have ears and that we have to be careful cuz we can't trust no nobody but us. And to my surprise it worked, we were best friends the rest of that trip. And to this day he never knew, he probably doesn't even remember the little stuff like that. He probably smoked those memories away. But I never forget.
So there you go, it's funny and sad and all true. Un Cuento. Love you guys...df
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