And Now Mexico?

Last Summer I went back to Utah to visit my mom and dad and family. I stayed with my mom for six weeks and of those six weeks about 2 1/2 weeks were of actual time spent with my mom and dad. All the other time I went to other places. I visited my friends and family. 
 I have a memory of my aunt that I can impersonate to very well. I will try to articulate it with words so as your mind can hear and see exactly what I can do. Interestingly, I thought if I did this impersonation my mom would not be happy. However, she thought it was so funny, she had me do it a couple of times. 
  My aunt, as I might have mentioned before is an alcoholic. I do not condone alcoholism in any way but when you are raised with the life I had, and mind you, my mom was not the cause of my pain, she was my protector, you can either become bitter, forget, or use your pain with humor to survive. 

 My aunt would drink and roll her own cigarettes. Of course looking back, I am sure she smoked more than tobacco, but we called them cigarettes. When she got drunk, she would walk around the house in her lingerie, she mainly had silk slips and she had a beautifully colored silk robe that hung open. It was white with flowers on it. We would, according to my aunt, make too much noise and she would get really ticked off about our noise. 
  One day, I was crying and wanting my dad in my room. My bedroom door was closed. My aunt had a glass of wine and a cigarette in her hand, and opened my bed room door. She was wearing a white silk slip with one of her white silk robes with flowers on it. I thought she was coming in to comfort me, but she opened the door, and stood there for a couple of seconds. she was not falling to the floor but she was tipping and swaying from side to side as she slurred, "Stop cryin' you brat. Your dad left you and he's no coming back" she closed the door rather loud and went back to her room for another cigarette and of course more wine. 
 My aunt went on spurts. Sometimes she was drunk a lot and other times she was fine, not drinking and really fun to be around.
 My mom somehow found a way for us three girls to live with her in Mexico. 
 I remember some of that time. 
 I remember we lived with a woman named Josefina. She was really sweet. I remember what her home looked like and I remember the Geckos on the ceiling at night. They were harmless but I was scared of them.
 I hated rice. Rice is a huge staple food in Mexico or it seemed to me it was. I hated it with a passion. My mom always tried to get me to eat rice with Cinnamon. I just starved when she did that. I would have rather been hungry for days than eat it and so I would give it to my sisters who would eat it for me. 
 I also was taller than most girls my age but I for the life of me was never fast enough for those buses. The Bus Drivers in Mexico were crazy. They would stop for about 5 seconds and whomever was off or on the bus so be it. They did not care if you were half way off the bus, they would take off. One fateful day we were on our way to Church when we were trying to get off the bus fast. My mom and sisters got off but There were a couple of people men of course, that pushed their way by me, and so when I tried to get off, the bus doors were shut on literally half of me. I was half way on and half way off the bus, and the bus took off. Women on the bus were screaming, "Stop! Stop! Stop!" while the men were hollering, "The baby didn't get off the bus!"
 My mom was chasing the bus and I was reaching for my mom yelling ,"Momma help me". The bus had one leg, one arm and half of my face stuck in the door of the bus. Needless to say, I have a fear of bus door now and dash off a bus scared to death it will close the doors of doom on me and whisk me away to a bus stop I have no idea where I would be. 
  I will add for you readers worried, The bus stopped after 4-5 blocks, let me off and my mom brought me to safety. Mazatlan had beautiful beaches, men had carts and they would sell us coconuts with cold coconut milk, mangoes, mango juice, fresh pineapples, we loved living in Mexico. I do not know which way I remember; the ride down to Mexico or the ride home, but I do know for certain we used a train and we rode at night and had a bunk in our section of the train. I think that was riding back, but I know we used a train to get to Mazatlan and back to California. 
Little kids would say my name easier than my sisters. Leena is just easier to pronounce than my sisters names. We would visit a man and his wife that lived across the street from us. They had an atrium full of birds. We loved going over there and seeing the brightly colored birds. they all were Macaws. There were red, green, blue and they were fantastic. They had smaller collection of parakeets, but wow those macaws.
  At night the neighborhood would be full of people sitting outside with their guitars, dancing and singing. They would bring food and eat, they would laugh and joke with one another. I can still remember the smells of the homemade corn tortillas and tamales. Fanta Naranja, and the sounds of the music playing.The streets were sometimes lit with brightly colored lights and we would know the neighborhood was having a celebration of something or another. We loved it. The people were kind and happy and tried to communicate with us, we really loved Mexico.