Sunday, May 20, 2018

Email To My Brother: Maricón!

I remember our beloved mother telling me once, when I was dropping off gourmet enchiladas for her lunch, “I had a horrible dream last night?”
     “You did, Mom?”
     “I did.”
     “What was it about?” I asked her, as she took a healthy bite out of her delectable Mexican food.
     “Well,” she said, chomp-chomping. “I dreamt that your brother Henry was coming down for Mother’s Day.
     “He was,” I told her, “but couldn’t at the last minute. He had to trim his toenails.”
     “I KNEW IT!” she said. “I KNEW there was a disturbance in The Force.”
     Who knew Mom was a Star Wars fan?

     Later that night, at the graduation party our cousin was throwing for her daughter, I told her two sisters that you were almost in town and almost came with me to the party. They were happy to hear that.
     “Who?” they said.
      Our uncle, their father, must be getting kind of older, because he got your name all wrong.
     “Marty Coen?” he clarified.
     “No,” I corrected him. “My brother, Henry.”
     “Si,” he said in Spanish. “El Marty Coen.”
     “Whatever,” I thought.

 
 
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