My Spanish isn`t good enough <br />I remember how I`d smile <br />Listening my little ones <br />Understanding every word they´d say, <br />Their jokes, their songs, their plots <br /> Vamos a pedirle dulces a mama. Vamos. <br />But that was in Mexico. <br />Now my children go to American High Schools. <br />They speak English. At night they sit around the <br />Kitchen table, laugh with one another. <br />I stand at the stove and feel dumb, alone. <br />I bought a book to learn English. <br />My husband frowned, drank more beer. <br />My oldest said, 'Mama, he doesn´t want you to <br />Be smarter than he is' I´m forty, <br />Embarrased at mispronouncing words, <br />Embarrased at the laughter of my children, <br />The grocery, the mailman. Sometimes I take <br />my English book and lock myself in the bathroom, <br />say the thick words softly, for if I stop trying, I will be deaf <br />when my children need my help.<br /><br />Pat Mora<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/elena-2/
