Just Me

By Nadeen Luv

This story is about my childhood. It was full of many lessons, including pain and hurt, but at the same time, I had love and joyful moments. I had to experience hurt and pain, but at the same time, I got to experience love and happiness. It also teaches us to never let hurt carry you over the edge. You should let your spirit rise and help you fight any obstacles that are just part of your life-learning lessons.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Mar 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490727677

Nadeen Luv

Edna Rivera is a very spiritual, loving, and caring person who loves to write and share her stories. She is also very hardworking, a woman who believes that anything is possible. She loves to laugh and be the joker of the crowd since she carries a unique sense of humor. She works with children, and she is a mother of three children herself.

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© Copyright 2014 NADEEN LUV.

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T his is a story that took place in a small town called Coamo, Puerto Rico. This story came from my notes that I took while growing up from the age of 5 to the time when I became a teenager. I remember these things as I got flash backs or you can call it memories, from what my life had been like when I was five years old. My notes are in Spanish because that was the only language I knew.

This story is about a young girl at 5 years old, who documented her experiences. Her experiences talk about her life being very tough and rough and in spite of that, she turned out to be an angel sent from heaven, full of passion for life. She was energetic, caring, joyful, happy, loving and full of beauty inside her heart even though her life wasn’t the piece of cake, as the world would think.

Let’s see, where can I begin? Let’s go back to the day I was born which was May 1, 1968. A child of a mother that had me at the age of 42 in her full menopausal stage of life and a father of 55 years old. I was a child of a hard working mother with a strong heart, and determined to give her life for her children. My father was a widower from a previous marriage. Both parents brought children of their own into this marriage. My parents worked very hard to take care of the family by providing food and shelter and many other things to be exact. My mom struggled herself with what life had to offer. She learned to live a life without little or no formal education. Her education was her work experience. Her sweat and hard work in a household even as a child was real work because some people think that housework is not real work. Let me tell you that there is more of a full-time job than sitting in a fancy office typing from 9 to 5 like they say. If you take a person working as a house mom, and you add the same hours of work, I bet that the house mom will win because she never gets a twenty minute breaks, or lunch time. There’s no resting time not even time to stretch and just relax for a bit like the office worker gets. Now you do the math, or should I say, the thinking and tell me what do you think about it now? Exactly! A women’s job is never done actually. It should be a full time paying job if you ask me. She herself never got the chance to even learn to read or write. It was never her choice or decision but she still managed to know more about the world and work than what she would have learned in school. She knew more about life as if she had gone to many different schools. She had so many achievements in her life but none of them had a salary or an acknowledgement attached. She herself had also a previous marriage that had left her with many lessons and I’m pretty sure many scars, that only she can tell but by the way she acted I knew she had survived that marriage by fighting for what was hers. Let’s not forget that she was also providing for the children she had from that first marriage. These children grew up and moved to the United States of America. After she had cared and provided shelter for them she had taught them everything she could as a single mom herself. They were grown by the time I was born and moved on to create their own lives. Some got married others went to work and others just did what made them happy, but for the most they had a family life of their own. I was impressed to see this woman that had older children but yet she had to take care of this new child that had come into her life, after she had already raised all her children. Now you tell me, here you have a woman that can pretty much do anything without having the education. Only her hard working skills and yet, she still managed to provide love for her children and me. I’m pretty sure that’s how she learned to survive by standing up for herself and learning anything and everything that was put in her way. All on her own, she had to learn how to survive by working hard in a tomato field walking up and down this straight line picking up tomatoes off the plants. It was a job she did from 5:00 am to like noon time, than she would also work in a factory making cigars from Noon till dawn or when she finishes making all the cigars for the order of the day. I imagine her getting up at 5:00 am and working till the end of day just to get paid minimum wage or many times just what they wanted to pay her. I bet no 9 to 5 will ever beat that or even come close to the kind of full time job that my mother had to do. She had a house of her own in a place called Korea, which is a section in a city called Coamo in Puerto Rico. Her previous husband gave it to her. Well, it was actually left for the children she had by her previous husband when she was married. The house was meant for her kids, but since they had a life of their own in the United States, they did not need it and she was left to care for the property. I guess she wanted to live a new life or she fell in love with my dad. After being by herself for a while, she ended up being pregnant with me so she began this new life with my father which to me now makes no sense, but who am I to judge or say anything. She was entitled to make her own decisions. Well as she began the relationship with my dad, she stopped living in her house in Korea, and moved into the house where my father resided. The house address was Segundo Benier it was in the same town of Coamo, just minutes away from her other house. My dad’s house was located across the street from the cemetery.

My dad was strict unlike my mother and had two jobs. The first job was as a fireman and the other as a Pharmacist. He seems like he had an education for those special unique positions but never can his knowledge be compared with my mother’s knowledge. I think she would have won him over by a lot. I remember those times as good times, family times. My mom would always take me to work with her. She never left me alone or with anybody so she would tie my leg to her leg by using a belt she always carried around with her. This belt never felt tight on my leg plus I had plenty of room and space to move as long I wasn’t far away from her. My mother never hurt me at all. She couldn’t. She loved her children including me so much. She lived just for us but I guess it was the only way she knew to keep me by her side or just for me not to get lost, or maybe it was the only way she knew that I would be safe. She protected me from things that she thought would be dangerous. I knew she had to work and I understand and I knew there was nothing else she could do because she had to provide for her children. Plus, I was a small child four years old going on five, what more could she do. She didn’t trust anyone, not even her family to watch me, so what else could she do. Nothing! As she worked a full time job to put food on the table and put clothes on our backs, she did what was best at the time. She was the best mother to us.

Sometimes, I would observe the sweat dripping from her face, as the sun would pound her body from the heat of the sun! So hot when you work in a field, it was impossible to find shade in the tomato field, so she would wear this hat and under the hat she had a towel I guess to pick up the sweat but I don’t think it was working because her sweat would drip down her face like an open facet. She had long sleeves shirt that she wore to avoid sunburn on her arms. She was the hardest worker on the field, but I feel like the sun gave her strength. Do you think at any point in her life she had any regrets for what she had to do, and how she was living her life? No, she never regretted any of her decisions whether they were the best or the worst decision she ever made.

In the morning the people in charge or maybe they were the owners of the tomato field, I couldn’t tell who it was, but all I know, was that they would bring her 2 eggs, bread, juice and coffee. It was a decent breakfast for a workingwoman. But the truth was, that she would feed me all the food that was given to her. She didn’t touch the breakfast, only the coffee she drank. She did the same thing for lunch time or even if she was giving a snack or just a plain piece of bread with butter. The bosses gave her lunch and she gave it to me. She lived all day just on the coffee. She would wait till she got home and cooked, and it was then she would eat. What an amazing woman! Here is a woman that wouldn’t eat all day because she had to work, and her maternal instinct was to feed her child and not think about how hungry she was and if she needed food or not. She managed to wait until the end of the day for her own nourishment. Wow, what an amazing woman! Other women would only do half of the things that my mom did now a days. I sometimes wonder why she didn’t leave me with someone while she worked. Maybe because I was too small at the age of four or maybe it was her way of protecting me, or, maybe she didn’t trust anyone. If she had left me with someone during the day, she would have been able to eat the food given to her and not given it to me. I understand what she was doing she was being a mother by putting her child first and herself last. I could I imagine her growing up she must of had a really rough life herself not being able to trust anybody not even family members she always was the provider for her children from a previous marriage since she often had to help them with anything they needed she would always help them with their life challenges so she had to work harder because she didn’t know how to read or write with no education, so she had more to prove to not only herself, but the entire world. She carries so much history in her life that you could really write tons of books, if you look at her face you can tell it carries allot of stories or lessons. While she told a story something that she loved to do talk about just anything you would know she had lived a tough one. She had so many stories, that people would be entertained for hours while they worked. I guess my mother was their newspaper or magazine or even a book. She had many stories to tell and she said them with such an excitement because she had experienced them. I remember her saying all these different stories every day and you know how I knew they weren’t the same because they never began the same or ended the same. At the end of her stories, I would hear people say, oh my God, where did that happen, or how did they leave or I couldn’t live like that and right there I knew it was her life she was telling them. Telling stories of her life, was like a therapy for her and a learning story for the other people. But everybody loved her stories. It was like they were there waiting for her to give them this knowledge of her stories even though she didn’t have knowledge herself interesting right. They loved seeing and spending time with my mother as soon as she walked in the fields you can see the way they look for her and call her name out saying good morning come here with us and to me that was nice that she was important. It was like my mother made the day better for everybody and also the day will go by faster and at the same time, they learned something, I am pretty sure each day they learned something that would carry them on in their own life situations, or maybe it would teach them how to deal if the situation ever comes up. I remember the beginning of my childhood being normal at an early age of four being surrounded by people that my mom worked with. My mom and dad, and my half brothers and half-sisters from my dad’s first marriage were around all the time. My mother came from a previous marriage where her first husband left her for another women and my dad’s wife had passed away so they both came in this relationship I think with a lot of issues on their plate and many thing unsolved. They seemed like they had a lot of issues to work out coming from different lifestyles. Sometimes, I thought my dad was intimidated by my mom because she was such a strong woman.

I had a home with the basic needs or the normal things that a home and a family should have had. I had my own room with a bed, and there was a TV in the living room but no TV in the bedrooms, because my father said bedrooms where for sleeping. A table where we all ate together, a bathroom, my yard it had plants in one side, and on the back was a little house where my mother would cook sometimes. The other side of the pretty nice living condition home where a child should feel safe and loved. My mom had a smile that would be worth a thousand words. Her heart was so big that everyone around her would treat her with this respect and admiration like she was one of God’s angels put on this earth. I remember just looking at her as she sang to me after she finished picking up the tomatoes. She had to go back and sit and put the good once in one basket and the bad once in a different buckets so they can use them for seeds. As she continued to sing to me I would fall asleep cuddling around her legs and she would cover me with her sweater since we were sitting by the fence under the hot sun so if there was no shade she would cover me so I wouldn’t get burned by the sun and as she continued to work, I would be there just showing my mom how much I loved her at four years old. Everywhere she went I went there was no separation I felt safe around my mom and I would sleep by her legs and wake up and play around her legs, never moving away from her and until this day I think this was the best and safest time in my life. My father on the other hand was a strict father who would not allow anything to be done without his consent. From his earlier marriage, he had 3 sons and 2 daughters. They loved me well, I used to think that but they hated my mom or that’s how they made it seem. Well at least one of his daughters hated my mother, the other once just accepted everything my mother did for my father and they were happy with my mother. But there was that one, oh wow, she hated my mother, maybe because my mother and I became my father’s center of attention and that to her wasn’t as fair or good in any way possible. My mother also had kids of her own I daughter and 6 sons which pretty much had their life set. During my four years of age I loved to be around family and friends feeling loved happy just enjoying every minute of life thinking that I was the most important thing in their lives. My proud dad as I thought watching him was thrilling to me, as he would say to people as he walked with me this is my daughter with his head held high on his shoulders, eyes full of joy and admiration as people say, hi, he would turn around and say this is my child as if they didn’t hear him already but I guess he was so proud or just wanting attention or maybe he wanted to flaunt this power he had over people, it was different than my mothers.

My mother inspired people with her love, joy, happiness and admiration and things that would make people feel good but my father was powerful, strict and firm with his education and rules of obedience. The total opposite of my mother she gave love out to the world and my father gave obedience. He made people feel scared because he thought he was so important. However it was the way they manage to be together and be the family they wanted to be, trying to overcome any obstacle that came their way. My parents were totally opposite, you know how they say opposites attract, well I guess that was them because they didn’t have anything in common but yet they managed to make it work. On Saturdays we would always go around the island just sightseeing or maybe spending family time together it was fun just being by ourselves, just the three of us enjoying life. I thought everything was except when my father had us walk all around picking up cans and putting them on this big plastic bag so he can sell them. He had this big bag where we put all the cans in and on Sunday mornings he will sell the cans to a guy with a big truck. I knew that this man bought a lot of cans from other people too because he had the truck full of bagged cans there were bags all over this truck it was like at some point they were going to fall of the truck but the bags never did fall. So I knew my father sold the cans to him because my father would hand him the bags and he would put some money in my father’s hand so I knew that he sold the cans to him. I was a little girl but I was very smart and I always would pay attention to the things around me and that’s how I would learn about many things. Saturdays and Sundays I didn’t know much about days I knew it was Saturday because my father would say today is Saturday or today is Sunday but not because I knew which day was which or which day came first and so on but we were happy. The only thing I didn’t like was the whole can pickup situation because I was feeling so embarrassed to pick up the cans and put in bags. I think out of the whole bag I picked up like ten, not a lot, and I didn’t want to do that I think that was demeaning to me and my mom but I still managed to have some fun but not picking up cans it was just because I would pick up a can and as I put it inside the bag I would tell my mom soda or beer and she would laugh it was our little game. Then, as we drove around, I don’t know why my mom always had to sit on the back seat. Maybe they had this agreement or it was his way of controlling the situation or maybe my mom was strong that by him doing that he would get even with her, or maybe she wanted to sit by me. I don’t know what was that all about or even what should I say. My mom acted like she didn’t care by not paying attention or listening to him at any point so maybe that was his way of controlling her.

On Sundays we would go to my half sister’s house and spend the whole day there. She was a nurse and I really liked her a lot. She never treated my mom or me like we were outsiders. I enjoyed it very much playing with the animals that she had. It felt nice being able to just be yourself. She had different colored chickens, ducks, a horse, cows, dogs and cats. It was like she had her own little farm and that’s how I began to find the worms and grab them putting them in cups. It was like I wasn’t scared of anything. Being around the animals made me not fear any animals, not even the lizards. I would go up in the tree and catch them then come and place it in the sun and watch it jump up when it gets hot. Even running around the open field climbing the trees, well, at least trying to climb. I never could get very far up but it didn’t stop me. I always tried again and again. I would reach the middle and I was fine with that. At least I made it there but it wasn’t as much more fun when my family would come from the United States. I loved when they came especially for the things I would get or even when I would spend time with my mother family. It was then that you could feel the separation between families. My father’s family would come to the house and it was joyful happy times. My dad would be talking and laughing and doing all this different things with them drinking coffee eating just plain happy. They also lived in Coamo, Puerto Rico. He had only one son that lived in Boston. Now, when my mother’s family would come to visit the house, it was horrible you can feel the tension. My dad would have this face, a mean angry face and if anybody did something he didn’t like, or he didn’t approve, he would cough loud or bang the cane on the floor, and if my mother didn’t look, he would stand up on the porch and he would bang the rail of the wooden fence on the porch, as giving a signal to my mother that he did not approve. My mother would look at him not knowing what to do or what to say, I guess that’s how he would let her know he didn’t like what was going on but like I said my mother didn’t care and she acted like he wasn’t there and would continue to talk with the family since they also lived in Coamo. She had only one son in Puerto Rico and the rest were in the United States. Most of her family lived in Coamo. Her sister lived in Coamo, Her aunt and uncle and other family members lived in Santa Isabel a town close to Coamo, and her son and the son’s family would come to visit, and she loved spending time with them. I would look at everyone’s face and I can tell they were feeling bad themselves or uncomfortable. If somebody gives you the faces and actions that my dad did, I would feel uncomfortable too, which pretty much I think they did. They just didn’t want to tell my mom or maybe they did. With my mother’s side of the family, it was always a blast and when my family would come from the United States, they would bring me stuff, and take me to the beach and take pictures of my mother and me. Sometimes, she would take the pictures but there were other times when she wouldn’t like it. She never liked to take pictures. She would walk away and hide or sometimes she would laugh and say no I don’t want the camera while laughing and giggling! But I am sure my mom was a very strong women but very shy, believe it or not.

Then as time went by, the arguments would start and the yelling, and the pushing and the verbal words but yet I never once saw my mom cry. Why would she hang around this abuse? It’s not like she doesn’t have a house of her own to go back to. Maybe she wanted to fight and make things better but I could see that they never got better. I guess she was so strong that it took control over her making her wiser, dependent or in control of the situation even if my father was this mean old grudge. She still had faith that she can have this so call family title and life style. Who was she kidding? I’m only four years old and knew there was no way my father was going to change. She might have had faith, but the luck wasn’t in her corner. It was like she was fighting this battle all on her own. The family didn’t approve of it. My mom’s sister always told her she deserves better. Even his daughter didn’t approve. So they were both in the same boat, the only different was that in the middle of all this so-called drama was me.

At times, he would kick my mom out of the house, even though it was really his house, he would say not my daughter grabbing onto my hand hard as he pulled on me. Then my mother would grab back my other hand and it was like a pull from side to side it felt like at some point they were going to break me in half until she had me. Maybe he saw my face as I cried and pulled on my mother that he decided to let go. My mother never left me behind. I was something that she would always fight for, and it was like she will turn into this strong hero like the chickens when you try to take the chicks away from the hen, they chase you away. That’s the way my mom was with me. It was like I was the only thing that she had, because my brothers lived in the United States and my sister left with them too and she only had one son in Coamo and pretty much his life was with his wife so she only had me to care for it was like I was the only thing that she had that reminded her that she was a mother since all her children were all grown up. I was a big piece of her and even her children it didn’t matter to her that they weren’t with her but in her heart they were with her. She never took sides when it came to her children. They were all the same to her and she would defend them with her life. If she ever had to she often made decisions for her children that I was pretty sure she wasn’t happy with but as long it was for their own good those choices will be made. She never thought of her, no matter how much she would hurt or how sad she was feeling she would not show it. It was always her children that came first. She wanted the best for them and she often looked for their protection. She wanted them to be somebody and get an education and grow up and get married and have kids and never have to work as hard as she did.

She cried silently, but that wasn’t going to stop