Sunday, September 14, 2008

"Are ya hOn-gry?"

Those might be the most saintly words ever spoken.

Two Saturday evenings ago, we had dinner with the H's...where have you both been my whole Lubbock Life?!

Bro. H is a surfer (no kiddin') from Southern California. Sis. H is from El Salvador. When they married, he already had 6 children from a previous marriage. While single, a friend of his told him, "Bro. H, you're a pretty good looking guy. But with six kids, you're not that good lookin."

Lucky for him, Sis. H fell in love with his kids first. She would take them to the Latino swapmeets. She said she was the black mama duck with six white baby ducks following behind.

Our evening went a little like this:

Bubba 1 followed her to the grill. He followed her to the dumpster out back. He followed her to the freezer for ice cream. He had a banana split. Bubba 1 was happy.

But not happy enough to give up Bubba 2.

With El Salvadorian accent, holding 5 month old Bubba 2,
Sis. H: "Ooooh, my baby! You can stay here tonight. Your new name is Bubba H."
Then resting her hand on her chest, "Mama H."

Bubba 1: No, he's my baby.

Sis. H: My Baby!

Bubba 1: Mine.


Reluctantly putting Bubba #2 in his carseat to go home, I said, (tearing up, which I'm prone to do--oh brother) "I really loved being here." And Sister H leaned over, put her arm around my shoulder and said, "This is your home." It was like I had my grandmother back from the abyss of Alzheimer's. Thank you, Mama H.

jamerivergirl and Grandma P.

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