Una Tacita de Te

My Abuela "Longa" would have celebrated 97 years last week.  It has been five years when she left us after dying peacefully in her bed at home under the care of Hospice.  I was teaching a class that morning, awaiting the dreaded call; my husband and my parents were with her.   Her last few weeks were hard because she suffered, her heart had grown tired.  It became more and more difficult for her to breath, however, she never lost her smiling eyes and  her faith in the power of love. 

Today I poured myself a cup of  Earl Grey tea (her favorite) and it reminded me of the teas we shared together her last few years whenever she would come over to my house, so I could watch her while my parents went out.  She would have preferred to be at  home, she relished her independence, but having had a few perilous falls my parents were cautious to leave her alone anymore. These visits provided us time to just hang out. She always enjoyed telling me of her past.  Through her  stories I learned a lot about growing up without a mother's love, overcoming struggles, the importance of family, and the value of kindness.  I am thankful that although the politics between Cuba and the US separated us for many years, I was able to enjoy her final chapters here in Tampa and Houston, where she shared time between two of her three daughters. ( Her youngest never left Cuba). Her regret was not able to see her third daughter before she passed.

This prose is written as a dedication to her, strangely writing in spanish (which is not as easy for me as in English) seems natural today as I am remembering how we always enjoyed English tea together and how fresh her memory of her adventures as a young woman, as she came of age in a small town outside of Havana.  Interesting how our simple ritual of tea can bring back so many memories for me. She taught me to pass on our memories with love...so I am doing just that through these words.

 

 "Una tacita de Te"

 

Una simple tacita de te caliente le brindaba  a mi abuelita

Y con su sonrisa genial de mi la recibía con cuidado

Y me decía que sabroso el té que yo compartía con ella

Juntas pasamos tardes en mi casa de esta manera

La veo en mi mente todavía sentada en su silla favorita

 

De ahí  ella me hablaba de muchas cosas

Le gustaba contar de cómo un joven militar la conquisto

Me contaba  de su dulce pasado en su tierra natal, y yo curiosa

Con  imaginación la veía  una Cubanita joven, lista, y sabía

Recuerdo sentirme  que yo bebía sus palabras

 

Con sus manos envejecidas tomaba el te ingles y me preguntaba de donde era

Y yo le recordaba que era el mismo que tomamos la última vez

Abría sus ojos azules y sorprendida decía que no recordaba

Aunque su memoria de la niñez que vivió siempre fue fresca y puro

Y ella seguía soltando al aire sus lindas anécdotas

 

Hoy contemplo  esas tardes y noches que compartimos juntas

Ahora me doy cuenta que bella  lección de humildad y amor ella me brindaba

Cuando hoy  me serví  una simple tacita de te vi sus ojitos de flor

 Con una lágrima yo le brinde gracias por lo que aprendí más de ella

Que nuestras melosas memorias son regalos de Papa Dios quien es Amor.

 

Por CCayon-Marzo 12, 2013