A Lonely Piece

Paulina is three and-a-half years old, was abandoned by her parents, and has dark brown hair that is kept in a bowel cut. She walks around the Sisters' home in cute dresses with her arms swinging, head up, and always after something. If her twin sister has a soft, white roll and is enjoying a bite of it, Paulina will grab the bread from her sisters' hand and stuff it into her own mouth. Paulina eats food from unattended plates and grabs books and toys from smaller children. Mostly, she is on the lookout for adults to pick her up and when she sees someone bigger, she approaches them with her arms extended upwards. She'll settle for holding hands, but if she finds another set of open arms to scoop her up, she will let go of the person she has. If I am carrying a crying baby, she tries to pull the baby from my arms, or she points to a crib or baby-seat in an effort to get me to put the child aside and pay attention to her.


My father is in his late 60's, has spent his whole life and Pittsburgh, and has graying hair that is usually covered by his sports cap. He doesn't miss Mass, he rarely misses choir practices, picnics or Steelers games, and he often misses work. He didn't want me to go to Mexico and had lots of ideas of what I should do instead, ranging from running for Congress to tending bar. One of his last suggestions was ''Look, you can live at home and not pay rent. You can do social work at the Senior Center. I'll retire and let you have the Beemer.''

Paulina can't speak but if she could she would be saying what my father was really saying--
''Let's be safe and happy together. Let's not worry about anything else.''

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Then there's Corazon who is nineteen years old, very tiny, and seems to be comprised of a huge smile and baggy clothes. She walks unevenly, with a limp and hunched back. Sometimes she is weeping instead of smiling and then I'll put my arm around her and give her dolls and read her stories until she perks up again. She dances and says a few words, mostly 'Mama' and 'Sister.' When it's time to move the other girls, she helps to push the wheelchairs. Once, when one of the nuns was trying to to force medicine into Edith's mouth, Corozan jumped out of bed to help Sister hold down Ediths' arms.

I am sitting on Corazon's bed, reading her 'Sleeping Beauty' when a new nun walks in and introduces herself. Her name is Sister Maria, she is from Columbia, and she became a nun 28 years ago after her Father died and she went to England and took a pilgremage to Lourdes. She asks me where I am from, what I am doing here, and if I have a boyfriend.

''Praise the Lord,'' she says to my response. ''They'll just hold you back. You need to be free to do your own thing and move around. People say single people are lonely, but married people get lonely too. You have as good a chance of marrying a good husband as you do winning the lottery. Just do good works and do everything for God. If you feel lonely, there are plenty of people to visit, '' she says, as she looks around at the room full of beds of handicapped women. ''And there are even more people in hospitals who need companionship.''

Her thoughts seem valid, but I don't tell her that being at the home often makes me feel lonely than being by myself. I feel out of place, as if I am a clumsy one-woman cheerleader squad. I think that if I did have a boyfriend or family to come home too, it would make things much easier. Of course, back in the United States there's a whole country full of guys I would be able to talk to who used to approach me at parties and work, but I had someone and wasn't interested in them.

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I am trying to figure out why there are so many needy people out there when there are so many people needy people out there. It's like a third of the world fits in a puzzle, and the rest are pieces scattered about, trying to find a place inside, or fit with another random piece.

What if Paulina was my Dad's daughter? Maybe she'd stay with him his whole life and they'd spend sweet Sunday afternoons driving around together. How many couples are desperate for little girls? Meanwhile, Corozan is going to be a little girl forever, calling for Mama. As for me, why didn't I end up with my own family in Pittsburgh....or why can't I be like the nuns and have it be enough do everything for God?

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This is being written as I am home alone on a Friday night, though I could have gone to the Parish where I would have felt welcome. Guillito would try to feed me and he adores me, probably because I remind him of some of the mothers of of the nineteen children he has fathered. The men with mental handicaps like talking with me because I listen to them patiently. I am not there because I know eventually I will feel frustrated and left out if I stay for too long sinceI don't understand what is going on. I'll use this as an excuse to nip at the tequila and since my New Year's resolution is too take better care of myself, I am at home.

The thing is--my thing is people, mostly people who are somehow awkward or different. I notice them, I think of them, I listen to them. The fact that people here so often make me feel lonely and irritable makes me question who I am.

In orientation, we learned that bad spirituality is what happens when people fail to know God and it manifests itself through things like drugs, overeating, greed and violence. I wonder though if maybe those things are the result of a failure to feel close to other people.

But, we are all made in God's image and likeliness. By paying attention to others, we can know God. While I may not always feel at ease around people, my calling my be to share my experiences of others and encourage people to look hard for those that they fit with. As for those times when I retreat inwards and prefer being alone, by coming to know myself, I am knowing God too.