La familia de Alby

On a narrow street lined with white stucco tenants, the taxi stopped in front of a house labeled "8-12." On the first floor, a mechanic clanged away. "Eso es la casa de Hilda Monasterio Galvez?" I asked. A bit confused, he introduced himself as Gustavo, su hijo, and I, soy Julie. His eyes lit in recognition and led me upstairs to the garden and home of Alby´s mother.

With a glowing, aged face and extended arms, Hilda waited at the landing; ¨Mi carino! Mi Julie!" The short and big bosomed woman squeezed me in her arms like long-lost family. She rattled in Spanish much faster than I could translate. We examined each other´s faces with big smiles, and she with bittersweet tears. We embraced again. Awaiting introductions, other members of Alby´s family waited to give me hugs and kisses. Lorena, Alby´s sister; Reme, Alby´s cousin; and their 6 total six young children.

A two-floored garden hangs in the center of an encasing corridor, lined with 3 bedrooms, a kitchen, living room, and small dining room. We sat in the small dining room, just fit for a large cupboard and a yellow-clothed table for six, pushed to the wall to allow for more space. La mesa was set with floral placemats and a tray of mismatching glassware, many with the sales-tags still on the bottoms. We poured limonada fresca for the occassion. Hilda passed me a plaid photo album, preset on the table. Los niños reached for the plastic pages, but Hilda shooed them away, giving me peace for my memories. For some photos, I didn´t even recognize her; at her holy communion, her hair was short and her face thin. But then, there was her unmistakable smile, ebullient and joyous. She was not classically beautiful by American standards, but she became radiant when she smiled.

We sat in the dining room table and talked. They told stories of Alby: the family trip to the Dominican Republic, her job at a travel agency, her friends, and how she cared for her nieces and nephews. They said Alby spoke of me like her own daughter. Hilda replayed phone conversations, reproducing Alby´s voice perfectly, "Aye Joolie!" A screw turned quickly in my chest and my eyes swelled. I relayed how Alby would do my nails and welcome me with hugs when I returned home from school. We watched Telemundo together and she would translate my daily horoscope from the Cristina Show. I would watch her cook dinner, and sometimes she would let me help. We loved baking together, especially Guatemalan rice pudding with raisins. Alby called me her little cochina (pig) and we all burst out laughing. Hilda handed me a napkin for my tear.

I continued to page through the album and was surprised when I recognized photos of my own home: the immaculately clean family room, polished dining room with chandelier. Inviting and regal, it showed a place of luxury and utter comfort. I myself wanted to visit! The photos depicted a golden age of the Fefferman household, now neglected and cluttered. The house is no longer cared for by a person who loves it, but by 2 parents who simply return to it at the end of the day and sleep.

I toured around Hilda´s house and up to the roof that overlooked the city: the neighborhood, downtown´s towering office buildings, the airport, the mountains. Los niños followed, playing with junk and jungle-gyming on the large water heater. Back on the main floor, I walked through Alby´s room. Her bureau still displayed her personal photos, a figurine of Mary, and a jewelry box, disappointedly, I didn´t recognize any of them.

In the kitchen, almuerzo was ready. The main meal of the day in Guatemala, I sat in front of a plate of rice, beef, limonada, and black bean soup with a dollop of fresh cream. I was also offered fresh tortillas, homemade pickled chiles, and carrots. Everything was delicious, and I ate until full. Soon, Gustav headed back to work, and the others headed home. We took pictures, exchanged emails, and gave farewell kisses. Proximo vez in Nuevo York!

I helped Hilda around the house. She´s 76 years old, living alone for 25 years since the passing of her husband. I helped her remove the old sheets from Reme´s stay, and she started to cry: "Soy triste! Soy triste! Soy solita!" Her family gave her so much joy and now everyone returned to their busy lives, while she paced through her chored to save her energy.

She said that Reme and her 3 children would be moving in with her in October. Reme has been separated from her husband for 2 years now, after catching him in an extramarital affair. In Guatemala, divorce was only legalized one year ago and legislation for alimony is still not in place. As an English teacher, Reme is on her own. She settled near her husband´s family initially, but now she needs the support of family, and Hilda needs the company.

Tired from the laundry and dishes, Hilda and I watched TV together and I took a nap on Alby´s bed. My brain needed to shut down from all the Spanish! When I awoke, Gustav´s oldest daughter of 20 years old, Diana arrived. We drank coffee together and she offered to take me out: shopping, movies, bowling, billards? I said goodbye to Hilda, promising to return at the end of my trip and to celebrate both of our August birthdays. My Guatemalan grandmother gave me more hugs, and Diana and I headed out to play pool with her friends.

Another adventure. Each trip gets easier as I become more comfortable with my solitude. I relish living out my own desires, no matter how small: sleep, food, company, activity, place. I choose my path, however scary, magical, disappointing, or enlightening. More to come...