|
|
|||
Exodus
What happened on that day is true . . .
We, four young mothers gave birth to baby girls
early that morning. Our tiny ones were
warmly wrapped in receiving blankets;
the nursery too cold on that October day in 1980.
Grating winds howled outside the hospital.
Bedspreads white, flower
arrangements on nightstands,
magazines nicely stacked
on a table in the room sized for four.
The walls were stark white,
antiseptic floor covered with tiny white mosaics.
A Spanish soap opera blared from the television,
as a nice middle-aged nurse brought
us late breakfast of toast, eggs, sausage,
black coffee, and orange juice.
We were famished.
Three of the mothers spoke their warm Spanish
as they ate and giggled.
Unannounced,
a young Border Patrol Agent and
a female hospital accountant
rushed into our room.
The accountant spoke harshly
in English to the other three young women.
The B P Agent interpreted for her:
"Who's paying for your stay?"
"Where are the men who got you this way?"
"Do you think this hospital is free?" "It is not!"
"Gather your things and leave immediately."
"And, don't even think of taking blankets with you."
"All of the babies can leave in their diaper!"
The agent and account abruptly left the room.
The young women huddled together in shock and cried.
They grabbed their babies, their clothes, and ran
from the room; gone within fifteen minutes;
their three beds now disarrayed and empty.
In their rush, flower arrangements
were knocked down on the nightstands.
Scattered petals now shadowed the white tile.
Magazines were everywhere.
I hopped off my bed and walked rapidly
to the nursery to cuddle my own baby girl.
I noted the agent and the accountant continued
walking briskly throughout the maternity rooms:
their mission still in full swing . . .
Some women hid in the broom closets,
some hid under the beds, and . . .
some hid themselves in linen closets.
-Pamela Carvajal Drapala
(Yuma, Arizona)
|||
|
|
|
