Life Goes On and On

I got married last night.

Maya hopped out of the bath, as I held up her black and red with white polka dots Minnie Mouse towel, and kissed me on the lips.

“Now we’re married,” she said.

“Sounds good to me.”

I was actually not surprised about my daughter’s and my sudden nuptials just a little over nine months since her mother, Verna, died. Last weekend, I had scooped up the bride’s garter at a wedding I officiated amid a cluster of guys who exhibited as much enthusiasm as sloths doped up on sleeping pills. So I was just fulfilling my destiny.

Maya and I seem to have sailed, though, into the turbulent waters that confront almost all newlyweds. She told me this morning that, “I wish I didn’t have a daddy.”

My crime? I said she needed to finish her entire breakfast, a tiny swatch of quesadilla and a few pieces of scrambled eggs.

Tonight, at what turned out to be her brother Miguel’s final baseball game of the season, she admitted the bitter truth. “We’re not married,” she laughed. “That was just pretend.”

*****
Last Thursday night I took Maya for a walk around the park in our neighborhood. While she played with her preschool friend, Mackie, and his younger sister, Emma, I gazed at a group of mostly Mexicans engaged in a friendly basketball game on the hardtop. I noticed a friend of ours, N, whose real name I will not use for he is not in this country legally.

We met N and his then girlfriend, T, and their then two-year-old son, N, about two years ago. Both N and T pushed Maya on the swings, took her on long walks around the perimeter of the park, and bought her ice cream and popsicles in the summertime.

N, sweaty and flushed after an intense game, came over and hugged me. He is a landscaper who works at least 40 hours a week. He is also a hands-on father.

“Hello Maya,” he said.

“How are you Señor?” I asked.

“Good, good.”

“Where are T and N?” Maya asked.

“Home.” He paused. “T is not feeling well. She is…” Then he moved his hand 180 degrees from mid-chest to belly.

“Pregnant?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, as his lips curled upwards.

I hugged him again and said, “That is so wonderful. I am so excited.” I felt tears wet my eyes.

T is due around Christmas, a true holiday miracle. The three of them are very special to me because I officiated at their wedding ceremony over a year ago, a hastily arranged event right outside my home on the eastern edge of the park.

Somehow I have this powerful feeling that their daughter, the ultimate Christmas gift of life, is going to be very, very special. I believe she has at least one very potent angel looking out for her.

*****
Love, life, death. Life goes on and on.