I want to call you right now, but I can't.
You taught me how to pronounce words in Spanish, decorate vocabulary lists, start conversations, and order food at restaurants in another language. You guided me and classmates through writing a children's book - mine was about una mariposa named Pilar.
You taught me the importance of word choice in communicating well.
You took me to México - twice.
You modeled a deep love for language and culture and prepared me to speak in this amazing and confusing world.
I want to call you right now and ask, "What words now? What words do I choose and use?"
People are in crisis all over the world. Children of tender age are separated from their parents on our watch.
No puedo más, Señora.
I'm going to the border this weekend to learn the words, to study the intake procedures, meet families, help the helpers who are fatigued and still going. I hope to learn the words and the system to come home and help in my immediate community.
When you passed away, your husband gave me this necklace of yours. You would wear it when you taught us about the Mayan culture. I will wear this necklace and take you with me to meet these families in crisis.
When we were in México together, you taught us to say Good Morning to our host mamas: Buenos días. In English we often follow that greeting with, "How did you sleep?"
In this Mexican community, after Buenos días, the custom was to ask, "Almaneciste bién?"
How did you dawn?
Did you rise well?
Señora, we have all been sleeping. Some of us are sleeping too well.
It is time for the dawn; it is time for us to rise well.
Almaneciste bién?
Si, señora.
Voy a almanecer.
Con mucho cariño,
Mollie
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