Our new apartment and my new headboard may have been Papá’s next gifts to me, but the money he left behind was also his gift because it allowed Mother to stay home and fill her days just caring for me.
And his money would continue to come, but only if Mother and Father found a way to stop fighting and fill their home with love. It would only continue to come if Mother and Father focused on me and not on their throbbing dark thoughts.
Every morning, I waited until Cousin Sandra arrived. She stayed with me while Mother prepared breakfast for us. There were runny, soft-boiled eggs standing upright in their own rounded mustard-yellow plastic cups, toasted store-bought bread slices heaping with cream cheese, and hot chocolate milk to dip our toast in.
Then, with breakfast completed, the dishes were quickly replaced with coloring pencils and books for Sandra and me to practice our art.
At mid-morning, we walked down the block to visit Benita, drop Sandra off, and happily receive her kisses and hugs. Our visit completed, Mother and I brought Father lunch at his produce stand.
Afterward, we visited the park for me to play on the slides and swing on the green-bottomed seat where I flew high in the air, not feeling frightened at all.
Once playtime was over, we returned home for my lunch and a nap to be followed by an afternoon bath and a crisp set of clothes.
After dressing up, we strolled past the pretty houses on the block so Mother could show me off to the well-attired neighbors at every stop. I’d soak in their praises about my looks and my poise.
Once home, I watched Mother cook as she waited for Father to arrive from work, followed by relaxing meals at my pedestal table, surrounded by a family that seemed happy and talked.
Then the pampering would start by Mother cutting my steak and my chicken into tiny morsels that were easy to chew. For dessert, she popped the seeds from juicy red grapes sitting inside a sparkling blue metal bowl. I sat there as a young bird sits on its nest, waiting to be fed one grape at a time.
Once the meal was over, Father would sit in his chair and watch the ballgame on the new television set. I was so happily sitting right next to him on my child-sized silver frame chair upholstered in gold. Clinging to Father’s thigh, I held the stuffed giraffe that Papá had given me on the day he arrived with Mother from the farm.
At bedtime, Mother dressed me in fresh pajamas, and I jumped into bed to listen to her bedtime stories until the slumbering cherubs tugged me to sleep.
I was so happy that I often awoke in the middle of the night to stand at the window to commune with the moon and follow its path.