NoteWorthy

This morning our housekeeper, Victorina, came to my door. Her black t-shirt was soaking wet and so was half of her head.

"Su mama no esta bien, tiene problemas con su corazon," she said. "Your mom is not well. She is having problems with her heart."

Apparently my mom felt faint in the shower. She had just spent ten minutes applying some slimy substance to her hair meant to do a million magical and rejuvenating things, when suddenly she saw orange spots and her heart beat a little too fast. Our housekeeper, Victorina, heard my mom sigh. Just a sigh as if she'd finished a run to the top of a hill. Victorina went into the restroom, timid as hell (can you imagine knowing you're about to approach your entirely undressed employer) and found my mom leaning her head against the shower wall, panting and holding one hand over her chest. Victorina stepped into the shower, her shirt getting drenched in the water, and put my mother's arm around her shoulder, and held my mother around the waist and led her out of the bathroom.

"My hair, it's still in my hair" my mom patted her slimy head, barely able to keep her eyes open.

So Victorina walked my mother to the sink, pulled a bench up to it, sat my mother in the bench, tilted my mother's head back into the sink, and rinsed out my mother's hair.

Then my mother was willing to go lie down.

This was when Victorina came and got me, and went back to work, vacuuming, cleaning the windows, and emptying the dishwasher, All in a wet shirt.

What a moment.