We Must Not Go Alone by Gemini Ink

We Must Not Go Alone

Writings by students from the East Central Independent School District Mise en Place Drop-Out Recovery Pilot Program in partnership with Gemini Inkâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Writers in Communities Program in San Antonio, Texas Spring 2010

We Must Not Go Alone

Writings by students from the East Central Independent School District Mise en Place Drop-Out Recovery Pilot Program in San Antonio, Texas in partnership with Gemini Ink, readers and writers today and tomorrow

Funded by East Central Independent School District Gemini Ink thanks Writers-in-residence Regina Moya and Derek Delgado, Visiting Writers Abe Louise Young and Cary Clack, and Artist-in-residence Carolina G. Flores At-Risk Coordinator and Grant Writer Patricia Stone-Reyes Site Coordinator Susan Beatty Community, Adult, and Family Education Program Specialist Paula Ring Editing, Layout & Design Anisa Onofre, Director, Writers in Communities Rosemary Catacalos, Executive | Artistic Director, Gemini Ink

Student work has been edited as lightly as possible in order to honor the original voices ÂŠ 2010 Gemini Ink

513 S. Presa St. San Antonio, Texas 78205 www.geminiink.org 210-734-WORD

Foreword: The Gemini Ink Writers in Communities (WIC) project at East Central Independent School District (ECISD) was part of the Mise en Place Drop-out Recovery Pilot Program, a school within a school devoted to the prevention and recovery of dropouts at ECISD. For one school year, WIC facilitated three writing workshops, as well as brought in visiting writers, to create poetry and personal narratives reflecting the students’ lives and dreams for themselves and, for many of the students, their children. The intention of Mise en Place was that WIC help their students tell their stories as they worked toward their goal of earning their diploma or General Equivalency Diploma (G.E.D.), and to use writing as a "reflective mirror" of their circumstances--circumstances that include poverty, teen pregnancy, abuse, and homelessness. The two-semester project opened with a visit by poet Abe Louise Young (who also returned in the spring for a one-day workshop with the Mise en Place students that resulted in the chapbook Nothing Has Bended To Me). Two 12-week writing workshops followed, meeting once a week for two hours. The first workshop was held at Brookhill Baptist Church on the southeast side and followed a cooking class, also part of the Mise en Place project. The initial idea was to integrate the subject of food with children's stories, since this group of students had children of their own. It was a good intent, but proved difficult because of the students’ work and home schedules, and the lengthy distance between the church and main campus. And because the practice of writing must evolve to meet the writer’s needs, halfway through the workshop the focus shifted to poetry, a genre more suitable to the flexible schedules of the students. The second fall workshop was also a multidisciplinary poetry workshop held at the Learning Center on campus. Students studied and wrote poetry, and worked on ceramic pieces with artist-in-residence Carolina G. Flores. They created molds and paintings of corazón sagrados, or worked freehand creating ceramic pieces of flowers, animals, and portraits of their children. Both fall writing workshops were facilitated by Regina Moya.

The spring semester of WIC writing workshops opened with a visit from columnist Cary Clack who disussed the importance of personal storytelling. Clack emphasized the value of our voices, assuring students that everyoneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s life leaves echoes. Derek Delgado then worked with the group once a week for 12-weeks in two hour sessions, helping them get their stories on the page, introducing them to short pieces of fiction, discussing humor, writing strategies, and the elements of a thoughtful narrative. We Must Not Go Alone is a collection of the writings from all three workshops by the Mise en Place students. The collection is more than a glimpse into the everyday struggles of returning high school students trying to get their lives back on track. It's a testament to the fact that it can be done. Anisa Onofre Writers in Communities Director Gemini Ink

Ceramic credit: Samantha Jimenez

Contents POETRY Heather James Creator Samantha Jimenez Wet Ears Israel P. Untitled Tim T. Untitled Eduardo Campos Usted Emmita... Madre MĂa Kristen Olveda Box of Money Susan Beatty Ruthie Heather James Tina Tim Taylor I Am Tim Thomas W. Skyler Justin R. We Must Not Go Alone Heather James Leave Me, Save Me Israel P. I Have Decided Shelby D. Melody Shelby D. I May Not Know George Sanchez Rafaello Kristen Olvera Uncle Jr. Gabriela Chavarria The Good Smell Elisa Alvarez Frog Juan Garcia Pygmy Hog George Sanchez Alessis Micron Synthesizer Shelby D. Aquamarine Kristen Olvera She Smiles

5 6 7 8 9 9 10 10 10 11 11 12 12 13 14 14 15 15 16 16 17 18 19

PERSONAL NARRATIVE Anonymous Perla Chavez Anonymous Jenine Hernandez

21 23 25 27

Creator Heather James My love for creation has no bounds With a pencil in hand I can make the world come alive Whether it be this one or my own Watching it grow from infancy to masterpiece Gives me a sense of pride They bend to my will They look, do and feel completely at my whim They evolve around my pleasure For I can very easily Either place them on a glowing pedestal Or break them entirely and destroy them In that sense, I AM GOD.

Wet Ears Samantha Jimenez Me and my cousins would go To my grandmaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s house They would have elephant leaves We would let the water run down We would get wet The smell was like rain falling down, hitting us I was happy, joyful Just being there Playing, acting crazy. I look at this kid I want to join them and be crazy again.

Untitled Israel P. Interior of a car. When my door closes, I’m cut off from the world—in a way. It’s just me sitting on the black leather seat looking down at all the gauges, turning the key and feeling the pistons in the engine flare up as the car comes to life. When you feel the engine roar and rev up as you slowly push down on the accelerator it sends nerve-wrecking chills threw your body. You’re so comfortable with everything around you—the radio, windows, dashboard, floor boards— everything is to your own satisfaction and unique. Rare, very rare when a car suits you from head to toe. Like yin and yang. I guess it’s because I love cars, its a bond to me. It shows who you are, in a way. People get a lot of feedback if the car goes really well with the owner. It sends a vibe and sets a really good first impression.

Untitled Tim T. I wake up in the morning I see the herd and all the others Some are at the watering hole, some by the grass I walk towards the hole To get myself a drink I am stopped by a loud YELP and turn to see One of the others falls and a cloud of dust arises A being of creatures rises in transparent skins It is hard to notice where they are Their movements are so fast I notice they grab the fallen friend With a roaring object they begin to saw off the herd And as this happens I feel a sharp stick in my side My vision fades and I yell for help But everything begins to darken when I wake My horn has been removed I feel weak But the aroma of my herd overwhelms me And I am back on my feet

Usted Emmita, Madre Mia Eduardo Campos (Learning Center tutor) ¡Ay Cabrón! ¡Déjame en paz! Dios te va a castigar, mi rey santo You are a mother, a real mother you were sometimes with hands smooth soft and squishy like Camilo´s patas apestosas Smelling sweet and pungent como Chanel number 5 and Aqua Net Wearing a floral kimono without a bra up at 5 AM watering the front lawn ¡Ay Cabrón, Déjame en Paz! Emmita, Madre mía.

Box Of Money Kristen Olvera You are so shiny and little How powerful you are for a size so small! You can hold so much of The one thing that I value the most You protect it I have not always had you We struggled very much without you Having to work two jobs to earn you How tired I was each day! How many days of school missed I will not let them live a life Without you again. 9

Ruthie Susan Beatty (Learning Center Site Coordinator) You Ruthie, How´s comes? You who have petite hands, Elegant perfume, flowing from the pink silk suit How´s comes Ruthie?

Tina Heather James You´d say, “Your grandmother is a bitch!” You manipulative devil. Your hands cold, smooth and knobby. The smell of smoke. Your shirts were tattered, your pants black, your shoes ugly. “Your grandmother’s a bitch” was a solid belief. Tina.

I Am Tim Tim Taylor As stingy as a mama protecting her cub But giving as the sun gives to the world Tough when the fight has begun And soft when all is done

Skyler Thomas W. We were always calling each other names When unconfident You act like a bad ass and never have fear biting your nails, your hands never clean You smell bland and original blue jeans, graphic t-shirt, white shoes Always calling each other names Skyler.

We Must Not Go Alone Justin R. A boat sitting in the sea afloat Went with no one No one knows where we are going We are out at sea With nothing to see Lost and not found Things are going down Scared for our lives Will we make it out alive? The rescue comes I guess we must not go alone Cause look what we were shown

Leave Me, Save Me Heather James Godly sweetness takes me Till the shackles grasp me Moonlit eyes shine with sorrow Until I say make me The sinister waters save me Then the realization breaks me

I Have Decided Israel P. I have decided not to choose sides I listen and take in what I hear Then I compare it to what I know and see Then make my decision I take right from wrong Fair and unfair I think of all the possibilities That could be the outcome

Melody Shelby D. Music playing in your mind You pay attention to the lines You canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t get them out of your head Your face starts to turn red You really start to feel the heat Of this most haunting beat The song seems to never end Cause it always reminds you of your friend You used to sing this song together On sunny days and stormy weather Until that awful day When she had to move away Now all thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s left that will always last Is that haunting melody from the past

I May Not Know Shelby D. I may not know about calculus There’s no way I could get a masters I could never be a scientist For that’d just be another disaster Don’t get me started with chemistry And trig is way too tough Physics I cannot do But bet you’ve heard enough Although there’s one I do know Though it’s hard to get it out It’s how much I love you There’s absolutely no doubt

Rafaello George Sanchez A newly rounded piece of snow Ready to be thrown by a joyous child Each flake of coconut bites my tongue With love and sweet flavor When I reach the inside firecrackers light up my mouth And then he said FROST Because it is all coconut!

Uncle Jr. Kristen Olvera Your fat hands were rough and chubby and clean With short stubby fingers Uncle Jr. The smell of beer, cheap cologne and after shave Your green and yellow hat, black T-shirt With only one pocket I love you Rocky! You used to say Uncle Jr., nobody got you but me.

The Good Smell Gabriela Chavarria When I got home from school I walked in the house and smelled itâ&#x20AC;Ś The good smell of onion in the oil being cooked My mother smelled like food She had the smell in her clothes That smell, sometimes I smell and think of her

Frog Elisa Alvarez I am a green frog that jumps from tree to tree I wake up at the pond Eat some flies for breakfast And leap around to lose some calories

Pygmy Hog Juan Garcia I woke up today in the rainy forest Down by the river I went to eat at a nearby cornfield I am now ready to go find my friend Joseph the squirrel I love to eat corn I hate humans â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;cause they try to hunt animals like me I would never go down without a fight The truth is that Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m very juicy

Alessis Micron Synthesizer George Sanchez You are the most expensive and hard earned thing in my life I release my emotions Through sound You have so many possibilities I am never bored with you I can always make something new I refuse to lose you because Together we can make others feel good too

Aquamarine Shelby D. Waves crash on the sand The sea is vast, it fills the land. Shells scatter on the shore Two names carved into an oar The names spell out crystal clear It’s Ruth and her lover so dear Sometimes they’d walk along the beach Hand in hand Then they’d sit on the dock near the sand. One day, he asked her to marry him And, what did she say? Can you guess? Of course, she said yes. On the day of the proposal, He gave her a ring, The color of aquamarine. It’s been years since that day. The day when fate got in the way.

She Smiles Kristen Olvera She wakes that morning to do her yoga routine. She showers and gets ready for her day. She applies her makeup and notices a wrinkle at the corner of her eye, she smiles. Walking out of her house she prays thanking God for the day She walks into her restaurant, the people greet her, She smiles At about twelve lunchtime rush hour comes. The team works fast as if they were dancing to a fast pace tune Her dad comes to visit, she cooks for him, her specialty. She smiles. Later she lays in bed and says â&#x20AC;&#x153;It takes work but you can do it, believe in yourselfâ&#x20AC;? to the person she once was. She smiles, they both do.

Ceramic credit: Heather James

Personal Narrative

Anonymous Sometimes it takes hitting rock bottom for one to see inside themselves, and see who they really are. A veil is lifted, and the smoke clears. A lot of the time you don’t like what you see underneath. But regardless of the emotional aspect of the ordeal, I highly doubt that anybody who has actually experienced their ultimate low will argue that it was a time of epiphany or insight. For me, I fell into my own metaphorical oubliette at the tender age of eighteen, when my home life fell apart around me and I found myself without a job, an education, or a home. I arrived at the facility in mid-November, at around 6:00 p.m., with little more than the clothes on my back. My eyes were to the ground, my selfworth even lower. The staff was friendly, and the woman showed me around the building, through the dining room, the dormitory and outside yard. It was a sterile environment, and I remember being surprised about how nice it was. I had been expecting a dingy, depressing little dive that smelled of alcohol and urine. Though it was a pale imitation, this place at least made a decent mimic of an actual home. It had taken a lot to get me to that point, a large series of events that led to an implosion that collapsed my mental and emotional status into sludge. It had been years of stress, layered with growing resentment and self-hatred that did me in. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to leave, and my mom’s reaction was bluntly implied: “Don’t bother coming back. It would be better for all of us.” At that point I agreed, and spent the next two months in a mental ward and on my friend’s couch before I stepped foot on the grounds of the Safe Haven homeless shelter. I learned more in the ten months I was there than many people will learn in twenty years. I was offered a VIP pass into the world of the homeless, with front row seats into their lives. I had never paid much attention to them growing up, and my eyes would always unconsciously stray when in their vicinity. I had believed them to be faceless junkies that had no strife for life, nor any desire to better themselves. Now that I was among them, I learned of their humanity. As I heard their stories, I saw that many of them were once just as I was, with families, lives and careers, before it was all ripped away for one reason or another. Everything from alcoholism to divorce to abusive relationships had taken these women’s livelihoods away from them. Fate had been so cruel to them. I was deeply humbled, and a bit ashamed of my past prejudices. 21

Safe Haven is divided into two separate buildings, segregating the genders. I was the youngest person there, and the youngest still to inhabit the place in several years. I barely met the legal limit in fact. I was dubbed “the baby,” and soon found myself with over a dozen surrogates. They all taught me and protected me in their individual ways, and neither one of them would allow me outside alone at night. I remember that when my 19th birthday passed, they all put more effort into making it special than they did for anybody else. We became a strange sort of family, the scared child in me enjoying the constant mothering and comfort, while the women had a child again to fill the voids formed when they had lost their own. That experience has been the driving force behind almost everything I do now as I pick myself back up. I have been to the other side, and it was by God’s good grace that even then, people were there to watch over me. These women’s stories remind me that it can always be worse, and to never give up hope. My being here in this classroom, writing this essay is concrete proof that faith will eventually prevail. I grew up believing that for every bad thing to happen to a person, there was a good thing waiting to happen, at any given time. Once I was ready to give up hope, I finally received the years of back pay, with interest. I finally have the self-worth that for years I’ve been lacking, and the confidence needed to succeed. I owe so much to these ladies for their gifts of insight and for giving me what I need to better myself. I hope to one day return the favor, and to gather the stories of the lost and forgotten populace. I want to share them with the world, and give them a voice so that maybe more eyes can be opened and another prejudice of society can be diminished.

Perla Chavez

Sitting in the audience at what was supposed to be my high school graduation, watching the diplomas placed into every student’s hand, made me realize I had to do something better with my life. Then looking down at my stomach I began to think about the life I was bringing into this world in just seven short months. What kind of life am I going to be able to give her? Am I going to be able to provide for her the way I want? Am I going to be able to set a really good example for her? And will she be proud to say “That’s my mom”? Questions ran through my mind making me feel light-headed and dizzy. The world suddenly felt like it was on top of me, and I couldn’t get out from underneath. August of 2009 soon arrived, and that’s where the change began. I had watched my cousin, Liz, who was a single mom, struggle and push, but finally pull through and become a policewoman. She was the one person who gave me the most hope and showed me that even though times get hard, it’s still possible to accomplish anything. Liz told me about a new program they were opening at East Central, and told me to go enroll. Late August came around and I was awake early for the first time in a while. I walked through the morning dew and made my way to the car thinking to myself, “I’m finally back in school.” I was so proud of myself the whole time in the car I couldn’t help but smile. I walked into orientation and I met the most wonderful group of people that helped me change my life. Mrs. Reyes, Mrs. Leer, Mrs. Ring, Mrs. Beatty, and Mrs. Martinez cared about more than just me finishing school, but my life outside of school and what I had to offer my daughter. They made me feel like I was important, as if I did matter. They were just the most amazing people ever, and always wore the biggest smiles. That just made my day! December snuck around the corner and by the time I knew it I was holding my daughter, Cassidy Star Santiago. While I stared into her eyes she looked so scared and lost. She looked up at me, as if I knew all the answers, and in reality I didn’t. At this time I still didn’t have much to offer her except all my love and my time. While I was laying down with her in my arms I 23

started thinking, “Life for her won’t always have guarantees, but she’s always guaranteed to be loved by me.” In February 2010, I started attending school every day and practicing for my G.E.D. Math was the subject I needed help with the most. I started practicing with the tutor, Mr. Neri. He helped me so much and never gave up on me. I went from getting 7 out of 25 questions right to getting 21 out of 25 right. When I would want to give up and think I couldn’t do it, he would say, “Yes you can, you’ve been doing real good.” He gave me the confidence in myself that I so strongly needed.

Anonymous

Though in truth I am only about 30-45 minutes from my previous residence, the process of getting here was by far the most terrifying and nervewracking encounter I have ever experienced, and will likely ever experience again. You see, due to a sort of domino effect, I found myself without a specific home to speak of, and was living in a women’s home. It wasn’t too bad I suppose; it was a nice place as far as homeless shelters go. But that isn’t the point. The point is that that’s where I was when I received a phone call from a very unlikely person in my family, one who I had barely thought about in years. I was jerked out of my nap, which pissed me off because I didn’t recognize the name that they were talking about. I made sure to keep my voice fuzzy and groggy when I answered it, so maybe the rude caller would get the hint and possibly leave me alone. It was my aunt Denise. I had no idea who she was, but she noisily reminded me of the hunting trip I went on with my grandparents one Thanksgiving almost ten years ago, a gathering that she also attended. I remembered her then. She proceeded to talk, eventually breaking out into tears, which unnerved me. But she eventually got to her point, and asked the question that she had originally called to ask: ”Do you want to come live with us? You shouldn’t be there.” That made me pause. They were on the side of the family that I was taught to stay away from, for terrible reasons. No good can come of this. Anybody from that side meant my father, and I was never to see or speak to him again. Not that I wanted to. I tried to decline, but at that point I was nervous, so my words lost whatever meaning they were meant to have. My Aunt Denise is a pushy woman, and she will badger and berate you until you relent. So about two hours later I had my stuff packed and I was on my way to the airport, to South Padre Island. I was utterly terrified. I was crossing into dangerous ground, treading the no man’s land of my own metaphorical Berlin Wall. For weeks I was half-expecting a member of the other side to jump out of the bushes and yell “Surprise!” along with a few colorful questions as to what I was doing there. South Padre was beautiful, as is usually expected of ocean side neighborhoods. I was there for not even a week before we were moving again, this time to La Vernia. They had apparently found me while they were wrapping up for the move. In the week that I was in South Padre, Denise and I had spoken a great deal 25

about different things, getting caught up in my life. I made it perfectly clear that if I was to live here, I wanted nothing to do with my father. I didn’t want to meet him, or talk to him or anything. But she told me about him nonetheless. She eventually claimed that the terrible things that my father did weren’t true, that what I had grown up believing was wrong. I rejected it immediately. Who wouldn’t? But as she went on, I began to notice that empty puzzle pieces in my life were suddenly appearing and fitting. My heart sank. Either she was as good a liar as she was claiming my mom was, or I had just lost fourteen years of my life. I didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence was stacking up to a point that I couldn’t ignore. On the long drive to La Vernia, I got to thinking. After all, what more could I do? I had luggage and two ferrets in my lap. I decided to at least meet my father, and see for myself. He knew I was back, Denise had told him, and from what I heard he was flipping out. I was apprehensive, if not afraid, but I knew that neither of us would be able to get any decent sleep until this happened and we saw each other. At least that’s what I told myself. Looking back, there was a whole myriad of reasons as to why I wanted to meet him again. More than I care to count, really. On that day I was the very definition of inner turmoil. Every possible emotion that there was to be felt was swimming under the surface. Fear, anger, joy, sadness, hate, love... it was all there. I’m surprised that I didn’t faint or just plain explode from it all. Since it was such a long car ride, I had plenty of time to gear myself up for the impending meeting. By the time we arrived I was convinced I could do it. This would be a snap. No problem whatsoever. But of course, things are never as easy as the plans that play in one’s head. As soon as I got wind that he was on his way (which was immediately), my resolve crumbled and I hid in the master bathroom. I was like a small child in the midst of a nightmare. This was a mistake. It was then that my younger sisters found me. They had to almost literally drag me across the yard. Within the last thirty feet my legs buckled, and refused to move. I couldn’t go any further, I was terrified. This is wrong, I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this. I couldn’t even bear to look at him, and kept my eyes to the ground. Physical contact was eventually made. I would like to say that the hug between me and my father was magical or heart-warming like a Disney movie or something. But it wasn’t. It was terrifying and insanely awkward. I was shaking hard. Harder than I ever have in my life. I could feel my mother’s shame in me. I desperately wanted out of the hug. 26

Jenine Hernandez I climbed out of my room window of the back of my uncle’s house. My sister, Ariel, picked me up from the window sill and helped me down onto the grass. We tried to walk silently to the fence so we wouldn’t be detected by the oversized Rottweilers, who would bark when they saw any movement. Ariel lifted me up and over the fence and I jumped down onto the front porch. Before we both left the front yard we tried to explain to our cousin, Angel, who cried profusely, wondering why we were leaving. I said “I’m so sorry for leaving you, especially on your birthday.” I couldn’t be at a place where abuse is the key component to punishment. My uncle had a short fuse and it was intensified by all the beer he had been drinking that day. I guess you could say I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. He has hit me before out of anger, but never while intoxicated. I never wanted to be in that situation again, so I knew I had to get out of that environment. Ariel and I ran down our long block and tried not to get seen by my aunt who would be heading back to the house from work at anytime. By the time we got to my friend’s house, we had to hurry up and call our mom so she could pick us up. We tried to runaway before, but we got caught because we stayed at our friend’s house. It was the first place my uncle looked. So we knew we had to leave my friend’s house and play hide-and-seek with my uncle and Mom. We decided to hide out at an elementary school, which was down the block from my friend’s house. We had to be very sneaky about it because the school police always patrolled the campus. We made it to the playground and waited on the jungle gym dome. We quickly slid through the bars and laid flat on the ground when we saw our uncle and aunt’s car pass by. I had seen them go towards the direction of my friend’s house. Twenty minutes passed and right after we saw our aunt and uncle go back to their house, we saw our mom and my step dad’s car. My sister and I quickly got up to wave them down. They pulled up to the pickup drive way in the front of the school. We hopped in the car and made our great escape to my mom’s house in Floresville, a small town on the outskirts of San Antonio. Then next morning we went to my uncle’s house to pick up our

belongings. When we arrived, my aunt threatened to put a restraining order on us because she didn’t want anything to do with us anymore. That was the best thing she could think of at the time. We left with nothing but what we had on our backs. The next stop we made was to my school to withdraw us. Little did we know we had to have our aunt withdraw us because she was the current guardian. For that reason our mother had to find some way to withdraw us without my aunt’s permission. The school called my aunt to ask for permission because there was no other way to get around it. She told them to allow my mother to take us out of that school because she didn’t want anything more to do with us. I think of the saying “Blood is thicker than water,” and knowing everything that has happened between us, it seems like blood is only physically thicker than water. Family is never supposed to turn their backs on one another no matter how bad things get. It made me feel like I couldn’t even go to family when things got rough. By the time I enrolled at school in Floresville, my first day was my birthday—a new school, new people and a new age for me. It was almost like I had started a new chapter in my life. When I lived in Floresville, I had a sense of security because it was the steadiest place that I had ever lived. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been moving around to all locations and to all family members. I had never been at one place for more than one month. I would switch schools like I changed clothes. I felt really good knowing I could keep friends I had made without leaving them and never seeing them again. I could make plans with my friends without having to think that I’m going to be moving that weekend. My mom had settled down and got married to my step-dad, Manuel. My sister and I never saw my mom get married to Manuel. My brother had already been living with them and got to see them get married and at the time we were still living with my uncle. I never really knew Manuel much before the marriage. I was upset at him after I found out they got married because he had stolen my mom and didn’t even tell me or my sister that he was going to marry her. Overall he was a good person, in my opinion, because he took me and my siblings in all at once. He moved us into a bigger house and he worked harder just to support us. Sometimes he would complain to my mom that he didn’t

want all of us, just her. It made me feel that if we continued to live with them that sooner or later things wouldn’t work out between them. I noticed in the beginning he wasn’t fine with everybody at the house. As we started being our normal bad selves, he no longer wanted to put up with us and he would complain a lot more than he ever did before. Eventually I didn’t feel welcome at what I called my home for the longest time. At the same time, my grandma, who lived in California, asked me to go live with her. My grandma always wanted me to grow up with my cousin, who also lived with her. I started thinking it would be a good idea if I did get out of Manuel’s hair, and for my sister to finally have her own room, especially because she was going to have a baby. As the baby was coming closer and Manuel got more irritated, I chose to take up my grandma’s offer. My mom got angry that I wanted to leave her, for what she thought was a dumb reason. Despite my mom’s anger at my decision, I was going to live in California with my grandma no matter what my mom thought because I knew it was going to be easier for everyone, including me. I packed all my things in a matter of days. I was really happy to move somewhere where I chose. I wasn’t even scared to move away from my mom after I’ve been with her so long. I guess since I’ve moved around my whole life it made me more independent. I couldn’t really trust anybody to keep me for a long time.

About the Writers and Artist-in-residence: Regina Moya was born in Mexico City and graduated with a degree in Communications from Anahuac del Sur University. She has also studied graphic design and journalism and has two published books: Memorias de Dos Mujeres Mexicanas (México City, D.F., Editorial Atomo), and Donde Anidan las Palomas (México, D.F., Casa Juan Pablos). Moya has worked with WIC as both a writer-in-residence, and as an artist-in-residence. She also writes and illustrates personalized children’s storybooks. An El Paso native, Derek Delgado is a writer of short stories and sudden fiction. He graduated from St. Mary’s University and currently teaches with Gemini Ink’s Writers in Communities program, in addition to courses at Our Lady of the Lake University, where he earned his M.A. Among his short stories are “Sweat Pea” and “Friends and Neighbors,” both of which appeared in The Thing Itself literary journal. He is currently pursuing his M.F.A. in Creative Writing (fiction) from Lesley University in Cambridge, MA. Carolina G. Flores holds a B.F.A in Painting from the University of Texas at Austin, and an M.F.A in Painting from the University of Texas at San Antonio. She has exhibited throughout the southwest and her textile work is archived in the Cooper Hewitt Museum, N.Y. N.Y. Flores has been a Visiting Artist in the San Antonio Independent School District, the San Felipe del Rio Independent School District, the Southwest School of Art and Craft, and Our Lady of the Lake University. She is currently an upper level art teacher at The Winston School, a school for children with learning disabilities, and maintains her studio in the Blue Star Contemporary Art Center.

Readers and writers today and tomorrow

“Gemini Ink nurtures writers and readers and builds community through literature and the related arts,” is our mission. Our four programs serve an average of 5,000 patrons annually: Writers in Communities (WIC) sends professional writers into diverse community settings to work alongside students of all ages, needs, interests, and abilities in free workshops based in oral traditions, reading, and creative writing. The Autograph Series presents writers of national or international stature — many of them recipients of major prizes such as the Pulitzer or National Book Award — in a free public performance and a ticketed colloquium luncheon the following day. University Without Walls (UWW) offers three semesters of feebased reading groups and workshops and also many free literary events, all led by professional writers, scholars, and interdisciplinary artists. Dramatic Readers Theater (DRT) features professional actors interpreting literary works in free performances, often accompanied by original music. For more information, visit www.geminiink.org or call 210-734-WORD (9673) Toll-free: 877-734-WORD (9673)

Readers and writers today and tomorrow