Carolina's Birthday

           

                                                                ~ Painting by Jean Monti

"Crazy Mary" lived a few houses down the street. The people in the neighborhood would make fun of Mary, because she never took a bath, smelled awful, and spent her days gossiping from house to house. Crazy Mary had two daughters: Carolina and Raquel. Raquel was a little baby, but Caro was about three years old.

I first became a mother when I was about six years old. I say six, because that was the year that I taught myself to cook and the year that I took my responsibilities a little more seriously. My mother worked as a waitress, and she wasnt around very much, so I had the responsibility of taking care of my brother who was only a year younger, but I was the girl, and girls had more responsibility. Taking care of my brother wasnt hard at all. My instructions were to keep the door locked until my mother would come home, and so I did. I would play with my brother and keep him entertained and out of trouble, and i would make sure that he didnt go hungry. Looking back now, it really was a lot of responsiblity for someone my age, but I did it without question and without adult supervision.

Taking care of Caro, it was different. I suppose it was different, because she allowed me to do more. Caro always wore the same tattered and dirty cotton dress and she never wore shoes. She was a beautiful little hispanic girl, fraile and timid, with hair of gold and eyes as blue as the sky, but her face and body were always dirty, because her mother didnt take good care of her. Because we didnt have running water in our house, I would get a bucket of water and put it on the stove to heat up the water. Then I would get out the aluminum tub and I would sit her in it and give her a bath, wash her hair, and dry her off and put some baby powder on her so that she could smell pretty. I would ask her if I could wash her dress for her, but she was always afraid that her mother wouldnt like it, so I'd have to redress her in her dirty little dress, which always made me so sad, because she was so beautiful. I would comb her pretty hair into soft curls and sometimes, I would cut a piece of material or ribbon and put it in her hair. A lot of times, her mother would spend so much time gossiping, but Caro didnt seem to mind spending time with me. I would sit her on my lap and read her stories from my little Golden books. She liked that. Other times, I would take her with me to the meadow and we would pick pretty flowers and I would show her how to catch butterflies.

One day, Caro's mother left her children in her house and locked the door. She had left the beans cooking on the stove and the curtain caught fire. Carolina and her baby sister were burned alive inside their own home.

My precious Caro, you were the first of my three little girls and you will always hold a special place in my heart and in my memory. I picture you in heaven, full of beautiful flowers in your hair. Your dress is the same color as the softness of your wings. Your beautiful face is never dirty and your dress is never soiled. God above has you in His care, but every once in awhile, you become like a beautiful butterfly, and you flutter around me as to remind me of the days we spent in the meadow. How I miss you, Caro. One day, I, too, will be a butterfly and we will flutter in the meadow as we did when we were children. Thank you for watching over me.