My Sister

We weren't twins. I am older by two years, she's the baby of the family. I am a boy and she is a girl. And remarkably to the discerning eye it is hard to tell we belong to the same family. The years have passed and we get older and older and beautiful things keep happening in our worlds. She is the mother of a beautiful boy. I am newly married. After the countless schemes and jobs she has finally become a CNA. I am going back to school to interpret. But all you have to do is to sit us on a couch and before long you will know over all the shouting that we are brother and sister. I love how often over the years she has tolerated my hair brained schemes and my dodgy dealings, I in fact still own 51% of the clubhouse, how's that RC Car treating you? She is the only one who I could ever turn to for advice about the girls I dated after a disastrous flirtation led me to putting a bag of candy in Ashley McCutchen's desk (nice idea mom!) only never to hear a word and have my hopes crushed by the girl of my third grade dreams. Audrey's the one who was always there to hone my backyard dominance of baseball, football, and soccer even if only lasted long enough for me to gloat. Always the cook I loved sneaking in the kitchen when her desserts were cooling and grabbing a piece only to later deny everything because maybe the boogeyman ate it. I believe she still owes me for the time that she came home and dropped on the couch after girls camp when I stuck a pen up her nose. I always admire at how everyone remembers such her indelible personality and how i've become "Audrey's brother", though it's not a big deal how I lay claim to some of that as she did listen to music and hung out my friends come over. I will never cease to be protective of her and always eye with suspicion anyone she is with but in reality I know how strong woman she has grown up to be. Everyday I am excited at the prospect of being an uncle to Michael because I know with a mother as cool as Audrey that he will be funny, relaxed, and a pure clever. I can always count on her to save me in fashion emergencies and always groan when I get preachy. I hope so much that one day we will be able to go to the temple together and that our family will be eternal. I know that her heart is gold and the Lord will see her through the storms, she will always be there for me and I will always be there for her. Because when you really are brother and sister your blood is thicker from all the love you have for each other.

My mom

I'm a mama's boy and happy to be one. I've never been left for wanting in her house and out of it. Neither have my friends or anyone who enters through her door. In fact years have gone and they know that the first place they can visit is the fridge of my mother's kitchen. For years I have had to learn to share her with the people who are in need of an angel in their lives. I've rarely seen her angry and too often disappointed by the things I have done. Nothing is as poignant as the guilt one feels as one who so weary lifts her hand to wash the dishes you said you would clean. A tender and watchful eye always accompanied the sickness that would ravage a young son's body and with great care would she nurse health back through the soul. Always attentive to her boy's worldly whims every birthday and holiday were but filled the frivolous joys that brings happiness for a moment. My Super Nintendo a present that took us to the far reaches of Mill City so that I could once again suit up as Mario and travel throughout the Mushroom Kingdom in search of my lost princess. It was my mom who sat on the couch and watched and my laughter, groans, and odd tittering filled the air at my approval of at her wisdom. Who knew my greatest gift would be the compassion she would bestow upon me and teach me to share with others, as love has a way of multiplying and adding a measure of true happiness to each of our lives. How she took care to instill me with a sense of family as she made sure each of their names would be etched into my heart as she lived far away from the land she called home. For all the dances and the music something that make my body quiver every time I hear music ring, the sheer love of traditions of a people who I can call brother and sister because we are all boricuas. The unknown in which she led us into which would bring my sister and I eternal joy as she became the pioneer in our family bringing the gospel into our home. The faithfulness that she has always demonstrated being always welcoming to home teachers and others into our home who would show us what it meant to server the Lord even when she had bratty teens who were into hearing another lesson from a prophet. The sacrifice she has put in which has helped me see what it means to put the Lord first in your life. In the quiet moments as she is on her knees I know she prays for each of us that the Lord will help lead us into our place in the eternities. I have been to edge where one sees the pain that death brings to one's soul, the separation that burns through the body, I have seen that on my mother's face as she buries brothers and sisters, a mother and father, uncles and aunts. One of the most haunting realities I have experienced was knowing that when we were in an car accident and she turned to me blood running down her face to comfort me or when I sat by her bedside coaxing her to drink some fluids someday that would be my pain. A boy without his mother. Yet as we walk the planes of eternity I know that her lasting legacy will be the fact that we will never be devoid of each other's company and that her love will shine through eternity.

My dad

Where to start? Well probably at my excitement when he came back from his cross country trip which took him to Texas, Mississippi, up to Ohio, through Wisconsin and the fact that this was all done in order to fix some houses. And that face that he will probably end up repeating it again sometime next spring.  Or how grateful I was when someone rung our doorbell (a rarity) and voila it be the one and only Captain Willy back from his voyage! How at times when our family struggled without him and my worries turned to my mom who was all alone I felt a real yearning for the steady presence he brings into our lives. The discussions that have occurred and my big head has gotten filled with opinions about what will be the next big thing in technology and going back and forth on it (Dad, i'm still a wannabe Apple man).  How I hated working for him outside when it was wet, when it was warm, when it was breezy, when it cold, on the roof, in the living room, somewhere in the country, at my grandma's house and how I wish everyday I had paid attention to all that was being taught about being your own handyman. The smell of wood and it was being chewed up by his table saw and the dust that reeked of dead trees. Knowing that Michael is the hands of the best Grandfather in the world. That I could every night walk up to the plate and know that my dad would be cheering me on and that after the game he never would berate me but hug me and take me out to eat a victory meal, win or lose. I remember the strict discipline that dad wasn't the one you messed with, early on he would beat your butt and later he would ground you from the North v. South basketball game that you had to listen to on the radio while I finished the dishes and I will never forget that one night how late we stayed up that one night while I wrote lines and until he was satisfied that I had learned my lesson. Newspapers had to be delivered in any condition but I was never left alone to gaze at the Big Dipper as the sun stole away it's shine. Never the one to forget fun my dad could always be counted on to pick up the controller to play a little NBA Jam before school and try to beat me at Risk after (sorry dad we cheated you that one game, we can have the rematch anytime you want). My pride at our father-son Vatican poker game as my dad cleaned out the competition and funded yet another pizza run with the winnings, my memories of the many late nights came flooding back of him cleaning out or meager pile of toothpicks as we sat around and were schooled by a master. The many preparations it took to finally move our big blue moving truck out of the state of New York and the nights we spent at Pizza Hut playing Tecmo Bowl while we got ready. How I have often wondered at the feelings one has being deaf. Times where I stood behind him talking a lot of nonsense and enjoying the benfits of playing my music as loud as I wanted. The gifts that he gave me of keen and inquisitve intellect. The blessing that it is to know how to sign. The words that never came out of his mouth, "you can't do it" and the words that I want him to know but will never reach his ears, "I love you".

Sunday dinner

Food is the quickest way to my heart. Bar none. One of the things that i've grown to love is spending Sunday with friends and having food, drinks, and games. This is a tradition that dates back to the days of Vatican I (ps very excited for the Vatican's Thanksgiving, Brynn and I are totally there) and one that remains dear to my heart. Hanging out around the firepit, kicking back a few, and relaxing. The week lying ahead never mattered because you were guaranteed to always be in good company. Now that tradition is revived in some form as we make our rounds in the Maplewood Ward, eating and greeting, getting to know the other couples of the ward. Granted the dynamics are a bit different with the odd kid thrown in here and there, negotiating bed times and shoe off rules, but it's just as great. The setting is reminiscent of the traditional American Sunday dinner, though admittedly growing up in my home we didn't have one, it was always guaranteed that we would be home to spend time with family because Sunday was usually a day that our busy bee activities didn't intrude to lure us away from the hive. I am so happy that we are in Portland, surrounded by so many friends and making new ones.