My Tio Bobby

My Tio Bobby

--and his bushy eyebrows

used to bring

 my philipino cousin Dennis 

 over to the house

 tricycles in the garage

 Aunt Filly and a weenie dog

and my prima

the other Ronnie

for a few summers

sometime when 

rides in the Datsun  

almost forgotten

maybe overshadowed 

used to

take the cousins fishing

not just the boys

but the girls too

even though he lost a few

--temporarily, just for a bit

long enough to make for stories 

and some panicked mamas too

cuz they didn't align 

on their instructional cues

My Tio Bobby 

--and his bushy eyebrows

felt like a safe man

the kind of little brother 

I wish I had

to me he wasn't little

I remember him 

a brawny man

well built 

with working hands

brown Santa 

jovial too

VHS tapes 

of him in the suit

¡Feliz Navidad!

dressed down

to the boots 

My Tio Bobby

--and his bushy eyebrows 

in my early teen years:

Mija, you slimming down again huh

Meh, your grandma used to be that way

Up and down like an elevator

Up and down through the years and seasons...

That analogy

always struck me

curiously accurately

comfortably

didn't bother me none

felt like 

Affirmation 

for some reason 

that 

matter of fact

don't pay them no mind 

Kind 

of reassurance 

that size 

does not define

in a body

called 

Gorda 

Thick thighed,

Strong-legged

Maciza

"the chunky girl with the pretty face"

and the nice eyes

felt like

grounding

no devaluing or 

beholden commitment 

didn't call it 

a yoyo 

no danger 

of tangled 

unraveling 

precariously bartered

commentary 

no commitment to thin

and in my grown metaphorical appreciation…

Elevators 

not unlike yoyos

travel up and down 

transporting 

containing 

releasing

bearing witness

to a myriad of folks 

privy to huddled stories

the mundane, the woes,

celebratory journeys

when well kept

never unraveling 

up or down 

comfortable

useful

possibly overlooked 

in-valuable 

My Tio Bobby

--and his bushy eyebrows brows 

What stories would you haven given us in your later years 

about growing up 

my grandma's little brother

in hopes, dreams, and overcome fears 

Mighta tucked your memories away for safe keeping afraid they'd bleed out as tears in uncontained weeping 

Wondering if we don't remember you enough these days