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“Hey, Momma,” I said, sounding as emotional as I felt.
“Ezmita!” Momma cried out with joy and opened her arms wide as I hurried into them.
“I missed you,” I whispered as she hugged me tightly.
“You stayed away too long this time. But you are here now. Let me feed you. You’re too thin,” she said, pulling back and looking at me. I said nothing as she studied me. It only took a moment, and then she nodded. “I see,” she said. “Come, then. I will send your sister to watch the front and you can tell me how you broke things off with Malecon. It was time.”
I wasn’t surprised my mother knew without my having to tell her that I had finally ended my four-year relationship. She always knew. It was her gift in life. She read the minds of her children, or at least it felt that way most of the time. “Can I have a cinnamon roll?” I asked her, craving the familiar taste.
“I have conchas in the house kitchen. Chocolate ones, just like you love,” she told me. “I woke this morning, and my spirit, it knew you were coming.”
Perhaps it was God or one of the many saints that talked to Momma, and she didn’t read our minds after all. Whatever the reason, I was thankful. At least today. Conchas, my momma, and home were exactly what I needed right now.
“You eat many because you have lost too much weight,” she told me. “TERESA!” Momma yelled for my eighteen-year-old sister. She was the only daughter they had at home now. Rosa attended Saint Mary’s in San Antonio, Texas, and lived with Momma’s older sister and her family in thesummers there. They owned a restaurant that had become well-known in Texas, so it stayed busy. Rosa worked as a waitress, and she enjoyed living in Texas. I missed her terribly.
Teresa came from behind a new shipment of boxes that hadn’t been opened and stocked yet. “What, Momma?” she asked, then her eyes met mine and she squealed with delight before running toward me. I barely had time to catch her in my arms when she threw herself against me.
“EZMITA! You’re home!” she cried out and held on to me so tightly it was difficult to breathe. I was sure this affection was due to the fact she missed me but she also missed Rosa. I knew Rosa hadn’t been home since Christmas. I spoke to her often on the phone.
“Missed you too,” I replied. The smile on my face was genuine and needed. Just coming back here made all the hard stuff fade away.
“Are you staying all summer? Can we go shopping? Will you stay in Nashville? Can I come visit? Will you be here for my graduation this Friday?” She began drilling me with questions as she leaned back to look at me but didn’t release me just yet. It was as if she were afraid I would disappear.
“Not sure. Yes. Not sure. Yes, wherever I end up. Of course,” I replied. “Did you honestly think I would missthe first Ramos to walk across the Lawton Lion field and get a diploma?” I asked her. Both Rosa and I had been homeschooled. I was thankful Teresa had been able to experience high school.
She grinned brightly. “I am a first, aren’t I?” She was proud of that.
“Yes, you are. Momma and Papa are getting lax in their old age,” I teased and winked at Momma.
She scowled at me, but I could see the twinkle in her eyes. Having almost all of her kids home made it difficult for her to be angry. “That is enough chatty chat for now. Teresa, you go watch the store. I need to feed Ezmita,” Momma said and continued on walking toward the house entrance.
I gave Teresa’s hand a squeeze. “We will talk tonight after work is over,” I promised her. “I want to know all about the hallways of Lawton High.”
She nodded happily, then hurried on to the front of the store.
“Your father will be back from the bank soon. He knows you’re coming. He will hurry,” Momma told me as we walked into the house.
“How did he know I was coming?” I asked.
She glanced back at me over her shoulder. “I told you, I made the chocolate conchas this morning,” she replied as if I were daft.
“Oh, right,” I said and bit back my smile. It is so odd now to think there was a time only a few years ago I’d wanted nothing more than to get away from my parents and this place. Now, as I walked into the door of our home, my heart was healed. I felt whole again. It was as if Momma’s arms and these walls held magical powers to fix me.
“Momma,” I said, stopping as I closed the door behind me and inhaled the smell of home. Tears stung my eyes once more, and I struggled to keep from crying.
“What is it?” she asked me.
“It’s good to be home. I missed you and Papa,” I said, unable to find the words to express all the emotion in my chest.
“Oh, Ezmita. It will always feel that way when you return. It’s okay to cry. Happy tears are those that built these walls,” she said and reached up to gently pat my cheek. “Now come eat.”
Laughter bubbled from my chest as tears fell onto my cheeks. “Okay, Momma,” I replied.
Walking through the hallway and into the kitchen, I saw our memories hung on the walls. Family portraits taken every year along with baby pictures of all the Ramos kids. I couldn’t remember the last time this wallpaper had been anything different than the blue flowers. That once annoyed me, but now I cherished it. I found comfort in it.
“Sit,” Momma instructed as I walked into the kitchen.
I did so, and she began making me a plate of food. It would be far too much food, but I would eat it all to make her happy. Seeing her had made me happy. How odd growing up was. You went from wanting your momma as a child, to wanting to get away from her as a teen, to wanting her yet again as an adult.
