who needs to have a child.”
“Momma, you can’t say that, you don’t know her.”
The mother placed her hand on her hip and spun her neck sharply to the right. “I
know that she’s a damn fool, who helped Nico kill Elvisa.”
“Shoosh, momma, keep your voice down,” the daughter said placing her forefinger
on her lips. “We don’t need Nico’s bad spirits roaming around here.”
“Besides, Maria is a young girl, she didn’t know any better,”she continued.“A young girl, with a child and you mean to tell me that she didn’t know that Nico
was doing witchcraft on people?” The mother said.
“Alright momma, that’s enough already. You’ve made your point.”“Made my point? Making my point is not going to make that little girl’s momma
come back or bring Elvisa back to life, “she said.
“Oh my goodness,” the daughter muttered, shaking her head out of frustration.“You had it easy; you never had a hard day’s work in your life. You can’t begin to
know how it feels to grow up with nothing and nobody to take care of you.”“I know momma, you told me a thousand times.”
The mother and daughter duo continued. Their conversation came to a halt, when
they realized that I was close by and listening. Their words stumbled out awkwardly as
they did their best to try and comfort me.
“Your abuela was great person,” the mother chimed. “Yeah, a real healer,” the
daughter added.
“She is always going to be with you, Luisa. She is always going to have a place right
inside there,” she said pointing to her heart.
I waited for Maria to come back to get me. I waited for her to attend my abuela’s
funeral, but she never did. I grew up alone, without her. She would occasionally send
Christmas and birthday cards with I love you, and I miss you sloppily etched on the
backside of them. I suppose that’s why I always called her Maria. I never really knew her
well enough to address her as mom. However, things changed one day when a full letter
arrived in the mail.
I gave it to Sister Abigail, the woman who had taken care of me and twelve other
girls in the home. She put on her cat rimmed glasses and read it slowly. Then she folded
it carefully and handed it back to me.
“Well, what do you think?” I asked her.
“I think that Maria has gotten herself into quite a bind,” she said.
“Well, should I go? “I asked.
Sister Abigail turned to face me. She was seated in an old wooden rocking chair. She
started to rock back and forth. She was in deep thought.
“Luisa, I understand that you are now eighteen and very capable of making your own
decisions. However, I want to remind you that this woman is very disturbed,” she said.“I know; that’s why I need to help her.” I pleaded.
“No, I don’t think that you understand what I mean. It’s not natural for a mother to
leave her child. I just feel that there’s something evil inside of her,” she said.I lowered my head. I knew that she wouldn’t understand.
“But, we’re family; she’s my mother,” I said with my voice cracking.“No. Luisa. She stopped being your mother when she decided to leave you,” she
said. There was a long silence. Sister Abigail cleared her throat.
“Luisa, there is something that you should know. For years, I had hoped and prayed
that you had forgotten about the early years of your life, but it is evident that you
haven’t,” she said while folding her hands in her lap.
“You have been raised as a Catholic, and I am very pleased with your
accomplishments despite your background,” she said.
“My background?” I asked.
“Well, yes. You see you are a descendant of Ham and as you know Ham was cursed
by—”
“His father Noah.” I interjected. I was slowly losing patience with her. I had listened
to these stories all of my life, and they didn’t make me feel any better about myself.“Yes, I know that we’ve been through this before. But you have to understand,
Luisa, that the only way to break this curse is to completely free yourself from sin,” she
said.
I folded my arms across my chest. I couldn’t hide the fact that I was annoyed. I
didn’t know how to tell her that I needed more than Jesus. I needed to feel loved, and I
needed to belong to something.
“Luisa, you have to understand one thing about your past, about your family. They
were involved in an occult that was not highly regarded by the church,” she said.“You mean an occult that helped to heal slaves.” I quipped. Sister Abigail spun her
head around.
“Those false Gods didn’t keep your ancestors from being slaves. They didn’t keep
your mother from running away, and they haven’t giving you any answer as to who your
father is,” she snapped.
“Luisa, you need to understand that these practices, this Satanism, the worshipping
of false Gods have only made things worse. It’s nothing but trickery and enchantment.
None of it is real. You have to understand that,” she said.
The only thing that you have right here, at this very moment is our Savior, Our Lord
Jesus Christ. He’s the one who rescued you from sin. And He’s the only one who can
save you now,” she continued.
I shook my head. I felt hopeless. She didn’t understand me. She could never know
how it felt to wake up every day and feel alone. I wanted to stand up and scream at her
that I was miserable and that I hated my life here. She would only reply that I was
ungrateful and that I should be happy with whatever the Lord had blessed me with, Being
that I was a black
