Personal Narrative: Dona Mari

I remember looking at myself in the mirror and giggling at the white freckles scattered throughout my cheeks and nose. This was the last day, and even though I enjoyed the freshness of the paint sprinkling on my face during the hot and humid days of Guamuchil, my body was tired and ready to finally rest. I took a shower and went to bed. I laid there, anxiously waiting for it to be tomorrow and see the end result: Dona Mari’s renovated home.
Dona Mari was a humble, sweet old lady. She and her husband were the oldest couple, living in a small home at the end of the same dirt-road street my Abuelitos did in Mexico. They never had any children so when they got old, there was no one to take care of them. However, they lived in a close-knit community
It was perfect – definitely much better than the old one. Everyone had been working so hard to fix it and give Dona Mari and her husband an easier lifestyle. I knew she appreciated it, they both did, immensely. They took the time to visit every home and personally thank each family. She even made bunuelos for all the kids one night and invited us to her new home. She thanked us, kids, too for helping out and painting. We asked her how she liked the new house, and she expressed how grateful she was. Her eyes got watery. We didn’t think much of it and assumed it was because of happiness. Then, someone else asked if it was better than the old one. A tear rolled down her cheek and with a knot in her throat but a smile in her face she said “it’s different.” Then she told us about her old home; her husband had built it for her before they got married. There was a sparkle in her eyes as she described what it originally looked like. Her face lit up and she described every last detail. She didn’t have to give a direct answer, but her answer was evident. Even though her home was broken and needed to be fixed, the original would always be better in her