We Belong

Mama, tell us a story
For as long as I can remember, children in my family have asked this of every mother in my family.
“Mama, tell us a story.”
Tonight, as they do every night, my children ask it of me.
Some mothers, daughters, and sisters sew, paint, or cook their stories; my mothers and I sing ours.
Mama, tell us a story.
Sure, Stella, just a sec, okay? Luna. Hey Luna moonbeam, have you brushed your teeth?
I did, Mama.
You always say cleanliness is next to godliness, and my teeth are next to godliness.
Mmm. Minty godliness. Okay, no more comics. Lights down. Let’s get tucked in.
Aw! Just one more p-
Luna.
Fiiine.
Thank you.
Mama, a story? Please?
First let’s make sure you have everything you need for your field trip tomorrow.
Daddy already signed the permission slip last week.
I just need to bring a sack lunch.
Remember to put on plenty of sunscreen and wear your hat the whole time.
Ugh, I hate sticky sunscreen! Won’t I just get super brown and look like you?
Absolutely not. You’re pale like Daddy, and he gets freckles just going up the driveway for the mail. Without sunscreen, you’ll get crispy like lechón!
Maamaa! Don’t bite my arm!
Then wear sunscreen!
Okay already! Now a story!
Story! Story! Story! Story! Story!
All right, all right! Sheesh!
What story do you want to hear, my hearts?
Shall I tell you the one about the moon, the sun, and the star?
Or shall I tell you the one about the poet, her brother, and her sister?
No, Mama. Tell us your story.
Every story I tell you is my story, anak.
Tonight, I will tell you Mayari’s heavenly family story,
the story of outsiders who had to work four times harder
than everyone else to inherit the Kingdom of Heaven.
It is very like my family’s story, our own mythology.