Tia's Story

I wrote this short story about a year ago, as a creative branch of my ENG102 research. Seeing an old friend a few weeks ago, her son Abraham, reminded me once again of Tia and Hermosillo, which I once called home. I have labelled it simply, Tia's Story.

I had known Tia for over four years now - yes, ever since the incorrigible little redhead spitfire had walked through the door to our little house in Hermosillo, we had become fast friends. She came to clean and organize our home on Wednesdays and Fridays, and I would always be by the door, waiting for her arrival. When I occasionally forgot, I would be play-scolded for my negligence and prodded out of bed to a hot breakfast of eggs and chorizo. Her real name was Socorro, meaning 'help' in Spanish, but we affectionally called her 'Tia', or aunt, and she was like a second mother to me, scolding and spoiling and teaching constantly. She taught me the ways of Sonora - how to talk like a true Sonoran, how to consume chiles like a real Sonoran, and she taught my sister - she never quite trained me - to wear those crazy spindly high heels that Sonorans wear. Two years later, when we moved back to the United States, Tia became, of course, a regular visitor to our home in the States, our honored guest - and, as she could never be idle, she began to work, cleaning and organizing people's homes, and excelling at it with her usual spirit and determination. She never forgot Amy and I, though, and every night we would have our daily tournament, or war, rather, of her favorite board game, Sorry. Besides, every extra peso helped in her little home back in Sonora.

It was one of those trips, her Christmastime visit, the end of a week of grueling hard labor, and finally she was home again with us, sitting on the guest bedroom floor, counting her earnings. I watched as she slowly and deliberately counted every dollar with precision going over her addition twice on the paper I provided her. Her money counted, she began to divide it carefully into categories. Clothes for the boys - $30.

"They need uniforms for school," she said. "They haven't had new ones in nearly two years now. And my oldest, he's grown so much - he needs a new pair of pants. Do you think you mother could drop me off at the thrift store later?"

"No problem," I replied, rather absentmindedly, watching her meticulous counting.

Food - $100.

Savings - $50.

The ticket home - $30.

"I have been so blessed by this trip," she exclaimed, her voice gushing with excitement and joy. "Look how much I made! 100 dollars in one day! Your aunt was most kind to give me that much."

New sweater for her husband - $5.

"Now, if I can just get another cleaning engagement for tomorrow, I will ahve work for 3 more days - I will go home Saturday night. There - I'm done counting."

Total: $300.

"Tia, you work too hard! Give yourself a break! Can't you just hang out tomorrow? It's about time! I have the day off - we could go shopping, or play Sorry..."

"You come with me, Anita! You know I can always use a translator. Some of these tall blonde ladies, they talk so fast as if they expect me to understand, and then leave me a long list of to-dos in English!"

"Tia!" I gasped. "What do you do? I know for a fact you can't read a word of English. You told me so yourself!"

"And you know just as well that I hae never left anyone unhappy with my work. I just do a thorough cleaning, you know, and organize just the tiniest bit, and everyone's always happy."

Just a little organizing, right. Tia's organizing was renowned in our home - whenever anything went missing, ask Tia. And we usually asked the right person, too. Every six months we had the seasonal cleaning-out of my closet to take care of - a nightmare for me, but a joy for someone like Tia. She would wake us both up bright and early, hand each of us a large garbage bag, and tell us to fill it, or else she would. Nevertheless, she was right - my closet was always spotless after her, and most clients wouldn't recognize anything rearranged for a couple of days anyway, at least until Tia was safely out of the country.

"Speaking of organizing - I haven't seen my black dress shoes since last summer, Tia. Would you happen to know where they are?"

"Hm, let's see... now that you remind me, I think I might know the pair you mean."

A quick raid of an obscure un-searched corner of my closet produced the coveted shoes I had recently replaced. That Tia.

She did work those last four days, and that Saturday she left us, waving emphatically as the bus pulled out of the station, her arms filled with discounted buys and surprises for her family back home, cast away items from the houses she had cleaned. South, further south she went, going home with clothing, food, and a little to spare. "I'll be back this summer, you know I will," she had promised. For now, her extra little income had kept her family above water - for now. True to her name, she was taking help home to her family, in many different shapes and sizes. My eyes filled as I remembered the little Christmas gift I had found on my bed before she left. All her saving and economy, and she hadn't forgotten me. And it was then that I realized how truly blessed I was, not only in material possessions, but to have a friend like my 'Tia'.