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| Rolando (Rey) & Lil Nazario Children: Coli (glasses), Rhona & Randy |
As a young child, I was always in trouble.
I honestly, don't remember much of my childhood. I've heard the stories of how as a young girl I would more than test the waters.
We lived across the street from my momma's parents, Rey & Lil Nazario. When I got in trouble I would run to the safety of my grandmother.
As a 58 year old woman, I will own responsibility for the actions I had/did as a child, even though I don't remember much before my junior/senior year in high school. I'm not writing this to beat down my momma or my grandparents, but to simply tell a story and bring light to healing I've had over the many years. In that healing I learned my momma was a product of a product.
My momma and I had a very toxic relationship. One moment we were best friends and having a blast and the next we were in an argument. Many times it ended with my hiney getting a whooping.
Oh let's talk about that whooping!! It wasn't the average pop on the butt by a hand. My nemesis was orange hot wheels race track. That track met every part of my body. It was like a whip. She would swing and connect. I couldn't get away, even under the bed. It was long enough to still find and connect to a body part.
Not long ago, I was walking my dog and came across a piece of hot wheel track laying on the ground. I text my brother and said something like, "I'm hyperventilating from the memory of this" along with a picture. We laughed. But man-oh-man ...it was a huge trigger for me that day. A trigger that last for days.
Growing up, my momma didn't have it easy.
My grandfather was a drunk. I'm not sharing anything that everyone didn't know. It was community knowledge.
He was born in Puerto Rico and was given up. We know his mothers name and a few family members. Apparently, a woman named Coli helped care for him. Hence, my aunt's given name. We're not sure about my momma's name and my uncle was named after my grandfather.
My momma's told stories of how her and my aunt would get in an argument and my grandfather would stand them face to face and bang their heads together.
My momma was my grandfathers son until my uncle came along. He made her tough. He made her fight. He would take her to his friends houses and she would have to fight the boys. If she lost, she paid the price when she got home. I'm told, she rarely lost.
She was tough. She still is.
She was a bully. She still is.
She took no shit.
My grandmother was an incredible soul but, back in those days, women didn't stand up for themselves or their children. They were hard times and my momma was molded into all she knew.
So, if you grew up in a dysfunctional family, look back to see if your parents were products of products. It's all they knew.
