Nature Loved

1 | Madre Natura

June 21, 2009
4:42 P.M. Nature's P.O.V.

    "Again, her name?"

    "I told you, it's Nature Innamorarsi."

    "Now, Mrs. Innamorarsi, I understand you want to enroll your child—"

    "My daughter, yes. She deserves the same education as every other child at this school, maybe even more. I want to be there when she finally learns something about the world before I'm wiped off the face of it."

    "Naomi, I suggest you keep your voice down. Now, we've already had this conversation on the telephone. She doesn't already have the proper education to be enlisted into my school and you know this. You only entered the U.S. two years ago."

    "Nature knows as much English and Italian as I do and she's almost seven. She most likely knows more than I do because she is very intelligent for her age."

    "Where are her test scores? Do you have them printed like we asked?"

    "I thought I have already shown them to you, but I like I've said," My madre waved the same crumpled papers that she's been holding up to a number of different scorned secretaries. "Test scores do not and will not measure my child's potential."

    My mother's pursed raspberry lips and dark features are what I remember most about her, especially when she was my definition of angry. As a six year old constructing color-coordinated lego towers with my best friend, Andy, I could recognize that this was a disturbed type of angry, something I've had never encountered and experienced with her yet, almost as if she was sad. Most days, I compared her medicated fatigue to my pain when I fell off my bicycle and scraped my knee because she would always make an analogy like that when I would feel distressed over my friendship with Andy.

    "Nattie?" Andy perked up, his blue eyes enlarged and his blond feathery hair fluffed like a duck.

    "Yeah?"

    "The towers need to be taller."

    "No, they can't be! We used all the legos, dumdum." I bopped him on his bulbous forehead with a fretting chuckle.

    "Hey, stop it! I hate you, you know that?"

    As he pouted with his pink pudgy cheeks, I smirked. "No, you don't. You have a crush on me, don't you?"

    "You're crazy! You have cooties!"

    "You're not saying no."

    "I do not. I swear on your mother's life!"

    "Mine? What about yours? She's gone."

    Silence engulfed the room and suddenly I felt vulnerable. I looked to mother for moral support. Her dark eyes were pure black holes, and it seemed like one was on me and one on Andy, empty and ready to swallow and stretch us into spaghetti. When I gazed back at Andy, he was already out the door with his father pushing him away. Suddenly, I was kicking and screaming on the rough carpet and being held up by my armpits, begging to see Andy again.

7:08 P.M.

"Why did he have to leave with his papa?"

"Miele, what are you saying? You know you were being disrespectful. That fit you threw was unnecessary."

"Ugh. Well, what about Andy?"

"Don't twist it around. It's not his fault because he didn't say anything to offend."

"I was offended, mam."

    She took my hand as we strolled through our neighborhood, green trees from paintings swaying with the wind in song. The buds from spring were a crusty brown dusting on the cracked side streets we pass. At one point in my early childhood, I had had a dream about this exact moment. The soft sensation of mother's fingers wrapped around my small paw, the way she squeezed my hand when a car turned the corner even though we were on the sidewalk, the humid breeze ruffling my rich red hair, the full smile on her face as she cherished the setting sun, the cheering chorus of children running around on the wood chips of the neighborhood playground celebrating the arrival of summer, and the clear blue sky that changed to a warm watercolor westbound towards the citrus on the horizon.

"Mami," I asked distantly.

"Yes, amore?"

"I'm having a daydream."

"Oh, really? What is it?"

"It's like rewinding a movie and replaying, kinda," Tears blurred my view of mom's beautiful black hair and dark, thick eyebrows. "This happened before, but I can't remember when. Madre, I wish I could."

She gingerly kneeled on the concrete to caress my chin. "Oh, Natura, that doesn't matter. Just remember that I'm with you and that I always will be, even when you are troubled. And padre, too."

My father had always been a man of his word, like when he said he had worked hard, he did, and I barely saw the sight of him anymore. I couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why he was gone. Sometimes mother would leave with him and I would have to stay at Andy's. She had stretched the topic and changed subjects many times, so I never received answers until the day the end finally had happened. I thought I wouldn't want it any other way, but now I had been given my days of freedom and answers with the cost of the sun. I didn't know my selfishness was not worth the short time.

"What about when I'm older?"

"How old? Your birthday is in a few weeks."

"I know, but not now, just older. Old enough to forget."

She centered her breath to mimic the wind and slowly closed her eyes. "Miele, Whatever will be, will be. Say it."

Confused, I repeated her words of wisdom that I would remember forever. "Whatever will be, will be."

"Remember this, especially when I'm gone."

"Will you leave soon? Like Andy's mother?" She rises and took my small hand within her smooth adult fingers.

We continued our walk to the park and I ran to the swings as soon as mam granted me the permission to go.

"No, mai, mi amore. But yes, soon I have to go to the sun." She whispered under her breath to mute her answer from anyone but herself.

Little did I know that would've been my last memory of her sweet motherly touch.