Valiente

Mrs. Jimenez gingerly brushed back her black hair and raised her glass. She took another sip of wine and carefully studied her middle son’s demeanor.
“How are you doing, mijo?” asked the mother as she glanced at Chente with worry on her face. “Y no me digas fine.”
Chente chuckled under his breath as he playfully shrugged his shoulders. The moment felt authentic and normal. This was the mother he remembered before his dad died – strong, determined, and feisty.
“You know Mom, today was a good day,” replied Chente triumphantly.
“That’s good mijo. I’m so glad,” said Mrs. Jimenez as she relaxed her shoulders and exhaled softly. She tilted her head and admired Chente with a reflective maternal gaze.
Her middle son had become a strong, handsome, and independent young man right before her eyes. She noticed the strong cheek bones and the expressive brown eyes. In many ways, he was a younger version of his dad – fiercely loyal and always the protector.
“Chente, did I ever tell you the story of when you were born?” asked Mrs. Jimenez as she thoughtfully placed her wine glass on the kitchen table and sat down.
“What? That I was a painful 11 hour delivery?” grinned Chente as he took a seat beside her. “Yes you have, and there’s no need to repeat it..
Mrs. Jimenez carefully covered her mouth with her hand and laughed. “You were a pain, but not that story.”
She got up and went to the kitchen window and looked up at the stars. In a melancholy voice she traveled back in time. “Do you know that when you were born your dad wanted me to name you Valiente and not Vincente?”
“What? Are you being serious, right now?” asked Chente as he arched his back and laughed nervously. “Dad wanted to name me Valiente - Why?”
Mrs. Jimenez turned and smiled at her inquisitive son. She leaned up against the kitchen sink and calmly reminisced and recounted the story to him…
“It was late in October and it had been raining all day long. We lived out on the Bennett Ranch and your dad was really nervous because I started to have labor contractions. The dirt road to the highway was about half a mile long and very muddy, and your dad wasn’t sure that he could reach the interstate in his truck without getting stranded on the side of the road. But you were determined to be born, and we had no choice but to get in the truck and try to get to the hospital.”
Mrs. Jimenez took a deep breath, looked at Chente, and caressed his cheek. She loved that he was listening intently and hanging on every word she spoke.
“Your Tia Yolanda was staying with us and became frightened too. She handed me a rosary and said that she would stay behind and take care of your brother and sisters. The Dear Lord was with us that night, because somehow we made it through the mud and out onto the highway, but it was too late. You were on your way and there was nothing I could do but tell your dad to pull over on the side of the road. Fifteen minutes later, you were born out in the middle of nowhere.”
Mrs. Jimenez paused and cleared the corner of her eyes as she picked up her glass off of the table and sipped her wine.
Chente was mesmerized by the story as he envisioned the muddied trail his dad’s truck must have left on the dirt road and the sound of the rain pounding on the hood of the truck, on the side of a lonely road, muffling his mother’s laboring pains.
“Mom, I have never heard this story before,” whispered Chente as chill bumps formed over his arms. “How is it that I have never heard this story before. Tell me what happened next.”
Mrs. Jimenez cleared her throat and stood next to her son and smiled. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it.
“Well, your dad rushed us to the hospital where the nurses and doctors quickly took care of me and cleaned you up. Later that night, Dr. Lee came in the hospital room to check on me and was happy that I was doing so well.”
“He and your dad stepped outside my room and admired you from the nursery window. Dr. Lee was amazed that you arrived at the hospital unharmed and healthy. He told your dad that you were a brave little boy and that he was certain that you were destined to change the world.”
Mrs. Jimenez casually finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. She grabbed her glass of wine and walked back to the kitchen table and sat down next to her son.
“After that, your dad told me that he wanted to name you Valiente because you were his brave little boy who was going to change the world,” said Mrs. Jimenez as she playfully winked at her middle son. “Of course, I told him that he was crazy and I named you Vincente instead.”
“After all, your dad was a brave man too,” whispered the mother of five.
Chente loved listening to his mother talk about the past. He had always been the inquisitive kid who asked questions and wanted to know more.
“Wow. That was awesome,” beamed Chente as he felt a sense of pride fill his soul. “I can’t believe that I have never heard that story before.”
“Oh mijo, your dad was so proud that night,” she said as she finished recounting the story. “And now look at you – smartest in your class and getting scholarships to go to college. I guess your dad was right about you.”
Chente smiled. He was so glad to see that his mom was feeling better and acting more like herself. He had missed her. He missed the long talks that they used to have before the accident. He missed her laughter and the sense of joy and energy she brought to family gatherings. Mostly, Chente missed her infinite warmth and unconditional love that made him feel safe.
Mrs. Jimenez delicately covered her mouth as she yawned. “It’s been a long day. I think it’s time I go to bed.”
She turned off the light as she walked out of the kitchen. She gave Chente a hug and whispered in his ear.
“Remember mijo, that sometimes being valiente can be as simple as loving yourself.'