• Follow us on Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat @FarHarNews

Farmers' Harvest

Column: Having a second mom

‘I felt loved and cared for by my aunt; she's my real mother.’

%22I+look+back+at+everything+my+aunt+has+done+for+me+and+I%27m+grateful+for+it+all.%22+Courtesy+of+Concepcion+Mendoza.
Back to Article
Back to Article

Column: Having a second mom

"I look back at everything my aunt has done for me and I'm grateful for it all." Courtesy of Concepcion Mendoza.

"I look back at everything my aunt has done for me and I'm grateful for it all." Courtesy of Concepcion Mendoza.

"I look back at everything my aunt has done for me and I'm grateful for it all." Courtesy of Concepcion Mendoza.

Hang on for a minute...we're trying to find some more stories you might like.


Email This Story






Awoken by the weight of my rabbit on my chest, I gently place her on my bed. I lay down and watch her hop around as she knows it’s time for her breakfast. After deciding to feed her, I make my way to the room next to mine.

Slowly opening the door and peeking in, I try to stay quiet as I tiptoe inside. I see her sleeping comfortably in her dark purple queen-sized bed. Laying down next to her, I fall back asleep and feel safe.

The next day I feel a light tap on the top of my head; I look to see my aunt above me.

“We need to talk.”



She told me she was moving in with her daughter because her daughter has recently given birth to a healthy baby and needs help taking care of her children when she goes to work.

Everything inside of me shattered.

I was upset and frustrated. I didn’t know what to do. Knowing she wouldn’t be living with me was heartbreaking.



When I was a child, she played with me. At the time, I didn’t have any younger siblings. I only had my aunt and my older brother. When we would go to the store, I would hide a chocolate bar in the cart, only to be found and taken away by my mom. But my aunt would take the chocolate bar back and pay for it.

When she lived with us, she would make sure we had three meals every day. She talked to us about school. She was like my diary; I told her everything that was happening. She would tell me stories of her time living in Mexico before she came to the United States. She would tell how she was once very close with a well-known group now called Los Angeles Azules.



After school, I took care of my little sister when my parents went to work. They wanted me to have a job so I could help with rent, but how could I have a job if there was no one to take care of my little sister. It was understandable as they were not able to afford a babysitter.

On the weekend, I thought I would be able to have a peaceful day to myself but I was wrong. My parents started going out with their friends at night, leaving my sister and me alone with no food in the fridge. My younger brother started sleeping over at my aunt’s house.

This went on for months and I basically became a mother to my siblings.



Sometimes, my parents would unexpectedly want to take us out to eat. There would be a typical fight in the car, arguing where we should eat. My brother would want Panda Express while my sister would want Mcdonalds. My mom would say “I don’t care where we eat, anything is fine,” but in reality, she did care as she would refuse to go to fast food restaurants due to how processed the food is. My dad would become frustrated because he didn’t know where to go.

At the end of the day, we made five stops at different restaurants and ended up eating together at home.

When I told my aunt about the situation at home, she was furious. She purposely brought me to her apartment on the weekend and left my little sister home with my parents as she knew my parents couldn’t take my sister out at night. I felt loved and cared for by my aunt; she’s my real mother.



They would constantly call, though I never answered because I knew they were going to tell me, “Come back home now.”

No.

After 20 missed phone calls, I decided to answer and say I was at a party with my aunt. My father was angry and demanded I tell him the address to pick me up. He continued to call my aunt until she had enough. She went to the other room by herself to avoid anyone from hearing what she was going to say.

“Let’s go to your house.”

Opening the front door, I saw my dad sitting down on the couch. He didn’t dare to speak to me due to my aunt’s presence.



Even though I still take care of my sister on weekdays, my parents stopped going out on the weekends. To this day I still don’t know what my aunt said to my parents but I do know it worked.

For now.



One day my aunt had an accident while taking care of my nephews. She stepped on a toy while trying to stop my nephews from fighting. She had fallen and couldn’t get up right away. After a few minutes she got up and tried walking but she was limping.

She would get cramps on her leg that would make her knee bend, almost causing her to fall. It would unexpectedly attack her without warning. I had to hold her by the arm every time. She thought I was exaggerating, she felt embarrassed. She would say to “stop treating me like I’m old” or “it’s just a little injury.”

But I was afraid.

I was afraid of letting her fall under my watch. She has never let me fall during my problems. She has always helped me. It was my chance to help her after all she had done for me. She wouldn’t go to the hospital because of how expensive hospital bills are for just a “little” injury.

Over time, there were less sudden attacks and she slowly recovered. She still takes her time on the stairs and getting down from her bed.

I look back at everything my aunt has done for me and I’m grateful for it all.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email
Leave a Comment

If you want a picture to show with your comment, go get a gravatar.




Navigate Left
  • Column: Having a second mom

    Columns

    Column: Becoming a third parent

  • Column: Having a second mom

    Columns

    Life as a black sheep

  • Column: Having a second mom

    Columns

    Column: Finding a furry friend

  • Column: Having a second mom

    Columns

    Column: Saying goodbye one last time

  • Column: Having a second mom

    Columns

    Column: Building the fullest house

  • Column: Having a second mom

    Columns

    Column: The life of a young godmother

  • Column: Having a second mom

    Columns

    Column: A defining moment

  • Column: Having a second mom

    Columns

    Column: Attempting to fit in

  • Column: Having a second mom

    Columns

    Column: Breathing again

  • Column: Having a second mom

    Columns

    Column: Finding a father figure

Navigate Right
The school news site of Lewisville High School
Column: Having a second mom