The Regift

Why do we share stories with strangers? Hopefully so the story will live again in our corazon. Throughout my life and “the end” of her loving existence, I admired this resilient woman who was my dear mamá. She was a complicated mujer but I love the thoughtful gift she left behind.

After her funeral, when everybody was gone, my dear aunt Refugio Duran and her family made a short stay in our apartment before their long journey back to El Paso, Texas. I saw my aunt looking around our living room with delight. It was her first time there. She was curious about why my mamá’s favorite piece of furniture was there.

My tia found a comfy couch and called me over to talk. We talked about the family chisme. The expressions on her face reminded me so much of my mamá. I told her the story about the curio cabinet in the best Spanish I knew.

I began flashing back to the 80’s when I was around 17 years old. Our neighbor, Mrs. Hook, had died. She was a lovely elderly lady with white hair and fancy gray glasses. Her family had decided to have a garage sale.

I woke up in a daze early the Saturday morning when the sale began in our neighborhood. Near my bedroom I heard some noises coming from the living room. My mamá bought a couple of things for the house from the garage sale. Throughout the day, the only other thing she kept eyeing was an old curio cabinet. Little by little everything was disappearing. The only big thing left was what my mamá admired themost. She did not tell me but I knew.

That very afternoon, I was feeling so hungry I decided to make one of my famous double-decker sandwiches. In my childhood home, the kitchen and dining room led into the living room. When I was making one of my sandwiches, I saw the shadow of somebody walking in the bright afternoon sunlight. It was my mamá. She was pacing in front of the picture window for an eternity. She puzzled me that day because she was always a go-getter and went after whatever she wanted.

I stopped what I was doing and asked her, “Quanto cuesta?” (how much does it cost?). The both of us were looking out the front window. I saw a sadness immediately consume her.

I had been saving money for a rainy day and it “rained” that day for her. I went to my room and came out holding my jar of money in my hands. My mamá was trying to stop me from going to the front door.

“Mijo, where are you going?”

“I am going to buy something mamá. I’ll be right back.”

I walked towards the sale, making my way through unsold things scattered all over the yard. The Hook family was putting everything away in black bags. I stood right next to the cabinet and asked them if it was still for sale. The husband looked at his wife. She responded, “Yes, of course!” I showed them the jar of money that I had earned and collected over the years. They both went to the front porch to count it, piece by piece.

While I was waiting for their decision, I turned around and took a closer look at my mamá’s beloved old curio cabinet with mirrors inside and glass all around. A tassel was holding the cabinet’s old key. I looked back toward my house and could see our lime green curtains moving back and forth. It was my crazy sweet mamá watching me talking to the Hook family this whole time. Her silliness made me giggle.

The Hooks agreed to sell me the cabinet. When we brought the cabinet through the front door of our house that evening, my mamá was beyond excited. She jumped and did a joyful dance right in front of me. She quickly found a special place for it in the corner of our casita and put her little treasures inside; some were old and some were new.

Several decades passed since the garage sale and all of us had moved on in our lives. Even though my parents had moved to Murrieta to enjoy their retirement, we always made time to get together.

It’s funny how my mamá always knew the right time to call me; I was stuck on the 605 Freeway, traveling home at a snail’s pace. My cell phone started to ring. I recognized the number and answered, “Hola, mamá!”

“I am glad I got you, mijo. I was thinking it has been a long time since we had a family dinner so I have decided this Sunday we are going to have one. Don’t bring anything, just bring yourself and your lovely wife Rosa.”

While I was driving to the rancho, I was wondering what my mamá had planned for me that day. My mamá was waiting for us very patiently on the front patio.

“Hola, mijo, I’m glad the both of you are here.”

The expression on her face was telling me something was up.

“Oh silly mijo, I forgot one important ingredient for our dinner, the milanesa. Can you be a dear and go to the market with your brothers?”

When we came back from the market, I opened the front door and ran into a couple of boxes on the floor.

“Be careful,” my mamá and Rosa said. I heard whispering coming from the dining room. She told Rosa, “hurry quickly before he comes in.” They were wrapping fragile things inside boxes. I wanted to ask them what was going on but my beloved wife stopped me before I could say anything.

“Amado, come here,” my mamá said. “I want to give you a belated wedding gift.”

My mamá wheeled herself down the hallway and entered a room unknown to me. In the shadows of the backroom, my mamá pointed at something for me. I entered and opened some curtains to see what she was pointing at. There it was again – the old curio cabinet covered with dust and her beautiful treasures still inside. Right next to it were some empty boxes all ready to be packed up for the long journey back to L.A.

I turned around, got on my knees and gently grabbed her hand. Although no words were said, I understood what was happening because of the loving expression on her face.

When we finished packing up everything, a familiar voice said, “dinner is ready.” After dinner we said our goodbyes. I kissed her on the forehead and went home with our gifts.

A week later, while I was at work, a strange thing happened to me. To describe how it felt - it was like a warm, cuddly blanket that my mamá used to wrap me up in when I was a little baby boy. This strange loving presence stayed with me for a few minutes and then gently went away.

I had plans to visit my mother-in-law’s house that evening to have dinner. However, out of the blue, my little brother Oscar phoned me. His disturbed voice was telling me something was wrong. The tears of his sadness were filling my ears and soul. He was trying to put his words together but the only words that came out were, “my mom…mom, they took her to the hospital. Come back to the rancho.”

My mamá passed away that evening. I thought about what happened to me at work earlier that day. Was it a coincidence? Was it because I was tired and overworked? But I know what I experienced. I know it happened to me.

As I finished telling my tia the story, the emotion of happiness was trickling down on her cheeks. Suddenly she tapped my hand and said something to me that has stuck in my head.

“Mijo, your mamá was a very smart woman. She left that old vitrina (curio cabinet) in your good hands.”

It’s hard to say goodbye to the people you love, especially my hermosa mamá Virginia Casteneda. When I was growing up I always looked for my parent’s approval. I was not a perfect child; far from it. But I was there when my mamá needed me and, in one of her final actions in life, she gave this precious gift to me.

I will cherish this bittersweet memory for the rest of my life.

Mario Amado Castaneda is a student in the Downey City Library’s Literacy Program.