“Where are you going?” No answer. “Where are you going?” No answer. I knew he heard me every time I asked him the question. He just continued to get dressed. Man, was he a sharp dresser. His shoes shined like light reflecting off a mirror. Socks matched his pants just right. His pants nicely pressed with the sharpest crease precisely going down each leg. They could cut diamonds. He always wore a white V neck tee-shirt underneath his shirts. “A real man wears a white tee-shirt under his shirts. Remember that for when you meet a man.” He would tell me as I watched him get dressed. “Where are you going?” No answer. During the warm seasons, spring and the summer time, he would wear “Guayaberas.” Those are the shirts with an embroider design on each side that went from the top of the shirt all the way to the bottom. “Where are you going?” No answer. During the cool seasons, fall and the winter time, he would wear his long sleeve button down shirts which, he made sure was pressed to perfection. The sleeves wore, the purposely made crease, from the shoulder down to the cuff.  In fact, his entire outfit was without a single wrinkle. “Do you see any wrinkles? He would ask while turning around so I can review his entire outfit.  “No! Can I come?” I would ask. No answer. I knew he heard me. Why didn’t he answer me? I hated it when he would ignore me. “Are you sure that there are no wrinkles?” He would ask again. “No” I would respond with my head down and my little skinny arms pressed down against my fragile little body. I knew that he was going out and I was not going. “Yo vengo ahora.” “I will be back.” he would say. I remember I ran to my room and grabbed my shoes and my coat and ran after him. My little feet ran as fast as they could down the long hall way of our apartment with hope that he would grab my hand and say ok come on. “Can I come, please?” I gave it one last try. “Close the door.” He finally answered. I stared at his back, closed the door and jump on the stool so I can see him through the peep hole as he walked down the stairs and out into the street. I remember sitting on my bed with my coat still on for hours and asking myself why won’t he take me. As the years went by I stopped asking. I stopped watching him get dressed. I stopped checking his outfits for wrinkles. I told myself that it would be easier for me, you know less painful. He taught me a lot, This Man. He taught me how to add and subtract. He taught me how to remember things in a simple way like associating something to a situation or an object. He taught me to love Snickers Bar. And till this day, it is still my favorite chocolate bar (big smile on my face). He taught me how to tie my sneakers. Two elephant ears then put one under the other and pull hard. He also taught me to be observant and never speak out of both sides of my mouth. “Think before you say anything. Think about how what you are going to say. Is going to affect the person who is going to hear it.” He would tell me. I would remind him of things. His promises along with the date and time he made them to me. He would tell me that I reminded him of the elephant. I asked him why and he said that it was because I had an excellent memory. The elephant never forgets anything. He taught me to love elephants. However, the most important thing that he taught me was how to notice the signs of someone who didn’t care that they were breaking your heart with their actions. The signs of someone when they are getting ready to walk away from your life. He taught me how to stop feeling so I would not hurt. He taught me how to avoid the heart ache. He taught me how a man should not treat his family for when I grew up and had one. You know a man. A family. I can see the signs now.

One day This Man came to my room while I was reading Clifford the Bid Red Dog and asked if I wanted to go with him. I stared at him in disbelief and nodded yes. He told to put on a pair of shorts, tee-shirt and sneakers and to hurry because if not he would leave me. I put on my favorite pair of jean shorts, a white tee-shirt and my white sneakers with yellow laces. Boy, I was looking good. I had to because I was finally going outside with This Man. This time we walked down the long hallway together. He locked the door behind us and he grabbed my hand as we walked down the stairs together. I was on cloud 99; way up there. Nothing can mess this day up. I was outside with This Man. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and said “let me check the mailbox. Wait right here.” He opened the mailbox and took out a thin square glass bottle. He took a swig, closed the bottle, put it back and closed the mailbox.  He turned to me and said, “we didn’t get any mail today.” As I opened my mouth to tell him that it was Sunday and the mailman didn’t come on Sundays, I remembered what he had taught me. I thought about how he would feel if I told him that it was Sunday. So, I decided not to say anything. I was not going to let anything mess up my outing with This Man. Not no mail on Sundays was going to get in the way of this day with This Man. “Don’t tell your mother that I took a little sip shhhh.” He said as he put his finger on his lips and smiled at me. “It’s our secret.” He said. My eyes lit up and in an instance my lips were sealed. This Man and I have a secret. That was so cool. It’s ours.  It was our secret.  Only This Man and me.

Summer time in NYC – Washington Heights were so much fun when I was growing up! Kids were outside and the parents were either right there with them or out the window watching them play with the other neighborhood kids. We would race from one end of the block to the other or from one building to the other. We would play Tag or Double Dutch. Parents would conjugate in front of the building or sit on the parked cars. Some would even bring down the beach chairs, a little cooler filed with ice, beer and little juices for the kids. Someone would always bring the boom box and play music. On hot days one of the dads would come out with this huge wrench and open the fire hydrant. Oh yeah! Today was one of those hot days. Swwwshhhh the water slowly release until a burst came out knocking the daring kids that stood in front of the fire hydrant. The kids screamed with joy. Everyone enjoyed it, young and old. “Can I get wet?” I asked This Man. “Tu mama se va a poner brava.” “Your mother will be mad.”  He answered. Then he gave me a nod and I took off like a jet and jump right in front of the fire hydrant. The pressure from the water knocked me down just like the other daring kids that jumped in front of it. I looked at This Man from the ground and he gave me a look as if he was saying to me to get back up.  So, I did.  I got back up.  He gave me another look saying get back in there.  So, I did. I jumped back in front of the fire hydrant and the water pressure knocked me down again.  Down on my side I went. This event went on for a while.  I went in.  I fell.  I got up.  After a few times of landing on my ass, I got tired of hitting the ground. I took a minute to analyze how I should jump in to avoid falling so I could stand in the water and enjoy it.  This Man also taught me how to learn from my mistakes.  How to take the time and figure things out to avoid the same mistake. I was enjoying the water and I had a smile that went from one ear to the other ear.  This Man stood close by watching my every move; holding a can Budweiser beer inside a brown paper bag in his hand.  He had a smile on his face that went from one ear to the other ear.  This Man also taught me to cherish the moments because they always ended.  This Man taught me that even good things will knock you down and not to look around for help or approval, just get back up.  If you want the experience again then it’s ok to try it again.  Figure it out. Perfect it.  Enjoy the falls because they make the getting up feel so much better.  He also taught me if you name something then you instantly become attached to it and when you can’t have it you will be heart broken.  I loved This Man but I knew I would get hurt if I called him by his….  As the years went on the moments shared with This Man became less and less.  Most of the moments were unpleasant because he fell in deep love with what was in the mailbox that Sunday.  Soon his love for it over powered him, making him believe that it was all he needed to live and it followed him throughout the rest of his life.  I choose to remember and cherish the great small moments with This Man because despite all the unpleasant moments, life was great with This Man.  I miss This Man. I miss the small great moments with My Dad.
 

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