115 N Holmes St: Maggie

I was married once, but that was another lifetime ago. He was a beautiful man named Enrico that I met growing up in Spanish Harlem. It was a different culture, a different climate from what kids know today. If a boy liked a girl he asked her out through her parents. Enrico would stop by the house to ask my parents if he could help. It didn't matter what it was: mow the lawn, pick up some groceries, or change a flat tire. What was important was to show my parents he respected them and wanted to earn their respect in return.

After a few months he approached my father to know if he could take me on a date. The rest as they say is history. We married young, barely eighteen years old with big dreams of owning our own beautiful house someday in the suburbs and watching our children play in the yard. It was agreed it would be best to wait until we were both established or at least until we moved out of parents house.

Time, we thought, we had all the time in the world to chase our dreams. We were married only seven months when Enrico was hit by a drunk driver while riding his bicycle home from work. When my mother told me I screamed but no sound came out, I cried but no tears left my eyes. And that day all my dreams died on the street with him. I knew I could never live the life we were supposed to live together on my own. And I definitely could never live that life with another man either.

Time stood still in the darkness of my room as I cocooned myself within my blanket. Maybe it was days, weeks, or months after I lost Enrico that my mom packed my belongings in a large duffel bag and sent me off to live with an Aunt upstate. She sat down on my bed and lovingly stroked my hair while telling me I needed to go find myself. Of course at the time I had no idea what that meant. All I knew for sure was that I was lost somewhere between the girl I used to be and I person that had become a complete stranger to me.

Albany, NY may have well has been a foreign country. It was in some bagel shop called Brueggers that my Aunt explained she would sign me up with the house cleaning agency she worked for. She explained it was decent money for a decent day's work. House cleaning had been one of my chores growing up, so I felt fairly confident this was something I could handle in my fractured state.

I believe it was God himself that brought me to the Watson family, specifically the little boy with big brown eyes named Eric. Not just by name, but also by spirit this boy reminded me so much of my Enrico. Although I had other clients they were my favorite for obvious reasons. After a few months of working as a part time housekeeper/nanny the Watson's asked the agency if I would consider working for them exclusively full time as a live-in. The mom Carla Watson was returning to work and strongly opposed the idea of putting her child into daycare. I agreed.

Maintaining a beautiful home and raising children had been my dream, this was just a slightly different version of it. It wasn't long before the Watson house was filled with three more children. When I had started with them I was still a child myself in many ways but we all grew up together. While the children schooled themselves in math and literature I schooled myself in domestic skills.

When I was a young girl learning to ride my bicycle I remember falling down and skinning my knee. Decades later I can still make out the faint scar although my knee is completely healed by now. This may not make sense but it's the same with my heart. I couldn't tell you a specific day or time when my heart healed because I think it was a slow gradual process. Although I have learned how to open myself up to love again it will never be the kind of love I had with Enrico.

When the youngest Watson child entered high school I knew it was time for me to move on. I'll be the first to admit I am not that Internet or technology savvy, so it was Carla Watson that helped me browse ads on Craigslist. Nothing fancy, just a room somewhere. In my entire sixty-two years I had never lived on my own and didn't have a strong desire to start now.

The Watson's had helped me realize that my place in this world was to take care of others. Daphne was lovely, but what drew me most to her was the sadness behind her eyes. This was a woman that also knew the loss of a dream. She had this big beautiful home all to herself. I felt once again God had brought me to a specific place at a specific time. Daphne was lonely just as I had once been and without the Watson's I could become again. When she offered a reduced rent in exchange for housework and cooking I knew this was exactly where I was meant to start the next part of my journey.