Sunday, March 13, 2011

Rosa and I

Her name is Rosa.

She has been cleaning my room at the team hotel for the past 3 years. She's seen my dirty underwear. She's dusted under my hidden stash of Kit Kat bars. She's cleaned my throw-up sheets after a particularly rough night that first year. We have a special bond.

Rosa is from Havana, Cuba, loves the color pink, and LOVES the midday Spanish soap operas on univision. She speaks a little english and I speak even less Spanish, so we use a lot of sign language (not the real kind, but rather the universal ones like eat, clean, and throw-up) and spanglish. She wears big horn rimmed glasses and has a haircut that is a throwback to what I imagine Havana was like in the 20s. Wavy and shiny, always shimmering with a fancy looking brooch.

Today we saw each other for the first time this ST. We walked by each other going down the hallway. I'm sure each of us were thinking the same thing, "Do you think they remember who I am?" After a moment of courtesy smiles, she broke the awkwardness. She let out a big "Ooooooo!!" It kinda scared me, but I couldn't help but smile and say "Hola, seƱora!" I was expecting her to reply similarly and continue on her way. She didn't.

She cozied over to me in the middle of the hallway speaking softly to me in Spanish that I didn't understand. It sounded nice though. She put her tiny little arm around me and gave me a hug, not out of necessity but because we've shared some things. I like to think it's because I took the time to get to know as much about her as I could my first year, but it's far more likely that she's just a sweet woman.

Any woman that has seen my dirty undies and vomit sheets and can still give me a hug is OK in my book! Thanks for everything Rosa.

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