For The Boy I Used to Babysit, Reuben | Chronicles Of The Young Immigrant Women

I never thought about taking care of kids until I moved to New York and caught myself searching for a job that would help me pay for college, at eighteen years old. Most latina women and immigrants are working inside family houses, in different positions. Not always the experience with the parents is the best, for numerous reasons, but I’ve heard lovely stories about their relationship with the kids. As expected, every family in Manhattan is different, meaning you can get to experience literally a world of cultural shocks. You’ll see a lot of kids on the island, growing with aspects of their nanny’s background. I personally love it. Although every story is as peculiar as you can imagine, one thing they have in common: dealing with kids have brought love, light and the company lacking in their life abroad. Many we hear about negative and abusive stories–– which are definitely worth sharing as these workers deserve the voice and rights denied more often than expected, but today I’ll share my connection with this little boy who changed me forever. I hope to hear more narratives of this kind. This is a letter I wrote him the day I left, many years after watching his legs, mind and heart grow bigger and bigger (so did mine)…

“I say I love you every Monday, every Wednesday and every Thursday. And when I say I love you, I say it at least thirty times in all languages I know. I do this to make sure you will remember it on Tuesdays, Fridays, weekends and holidays. Not only this–– I wanna make sure you know that, when you say you love me the whole universe; that lives between your arms; inside your chest; and up your ticklish belly; I love you back all of it and maybe more. Actually, definitely much more. Sometimes I wonder if this isn’t too much for someone who doesn’t reach the bookshelf yet. Then you smile and I feel foolish for thinking there will ever be a love you can't understand.  If only you, Reuben, could reach and hug everyone’s legs in the world, the way you hug mine everyday when I open the door... what a giant piece of peanut butter and jelly sandwich the world wouldn’t be! Can you imagine a world where everybody sings Sesame Street as their national anthem? I bet Elmo wouldn’t build any wall. Besides (there it goes, a word you love) how great wouldn’t the world be, if our biggest fear was a big blue furry monster who eats cookies? I wish the world was made out of your little hands drawing a picture. Reuby, you are the best thing I’ve ever heard saying avocado and hating potatoes. With you and the million rocks you pick on the floor to wash and take care of, I’ve learned so much about choosing which ugly things we will turn into something beautiful. Ruby Buby, you always have so much to say about anything alive... and sometimes your little head, that I love to smell after the five thirty shower, sometimes this head, can’t even follow all of this you need to express. To see you trying is my favorite thing to watch. I want you to know you woke up the best part of me. The part that can still pretend we are nothing but butterflies, flying through the lobby as fast as we can, so we can catch the elevator first, to have a chance to press the button ourselves, because that is independency–– pressing the button ourselves even though it’s always going to the same place, is independency too. This reminds me of how good it is to, at least pretend we have some control over things. I like to think imaginations like yours will save future souls and trees. Rub-bub, when you look at me through your goggles before swimming lessons, and you wish me a good time watching you swim, then adds “be safe!” I know it’s because you want me to wish and tell you the same. This is my every-thursday-reminder that, if we wanna hear something we must say it first. Bubs, I love you one of the best loves I’ve ever felt. The one that’s proud of your scissoring skills, even when along with peeled crayons and million pieces of paper all over the floor. My dear boy, I don’t even think you should be around the many insane things I’ll write throughout my life. However, whenever I try to describe a pure feeling, I need to make sure a part of my love for you is going to be present. I speak my heart out now, because you are a huge part of it. Reuben, I love you and I wish I could write this thirty times. Even though I  think this phrase hasn’t been very original lately, I do need to have this written. It’s to make sure that when the time comes for you to reach the bookshelf, you can read this one yourself. Then you’ll know how much you still are important to me. And to everyone that ever gets the luck of being around you. If you are reading this now: hello, Reuben! Or I should say: Oi, Reuben! I love you every single day.”