Growing up my sisters, cousins, and I used to hang out at our family restaurant. Mostly because we got free food and it was next to Albertson’s and a Dollar Tree.

On one such day my sister and I were sitting at a booth with our cousin Julie, her younger sister Juliana and our aunt who was on her lunch break from waitressing.

At first glance you wouldn’t guess that Julie and Juliana were sisters. For while Julie had a light complexion and hazel eyes like their mother, Juliana had darker skin and brown eyes like their father. They were like night and day. That is if Day was an older sister that constantly teased Night.

“You’re adopted!” joked Julie. “Someone just dumped you on us and you’re actually Arabian like our step-father!”

“Stop!” shouted our aunt. We all went quiet, not expecting that kind of reaction from her.

“She’ll actually believe you,” Our aunt went on. “My brothers and sisters use to tell me the same thing…”

                                              * * *

My aunt was born in Mexico in a town so small it only had one working phone. Broccoli and brussel sprouts were strange mythological fruit and the nearest hospital was about three hours away. By car. Which no one had. Well except for two guys... until they had crashed into each other. But that’s another story.

Now my aunt was one of ten siblings. But unlike most of her brothers and sisters, she had dark features like Juliana. And just like Juliana they used to tease her about it.

“You’re not really our sister!” they use to say.

“Yeah! Mom just adopted you!”

“You’re actually la partera’s daughter!”

At the time their mother would, understandably, use the services of a midwife. An elderly woman with long, curly, white hair and dark skin, like my aunt.

My aunt’s siblings would terrify her by saying one day the midwife would come and take her away to live with her, forever. And so my aunt was wary of the midwife. Worrying about the day she’d come for her.

However much to my aunt’s relief that day never came.

When my aunt was about thirteen or so, the midwife passed away. Instead of being sad, my aunt was elated. Her siblings could no longer tease her and she no longer had to worry about the midwife coming to take her away.

As customary, my grandmother took her children to pray at the midwife’s house for three days straight. On the third day my aunt got bored and wandered around the building while the adults prayed. Eventually she passed by a window. Being the bored tween that she was, she climbed onto the ledge and looked through its glass.

Inside the house sat a chair. And in the chair sat an elderly woman with long white curly hair and dark skin, like my aunt. She looked up and stared. Right. At. Her.

                                                    * * *

We all stared at her, all wide eyed.

“It was like she was still alive!” said my aunt. “I saw her as plainly as I see you all now. And to this day I’ve never inside another window.”

She then looked at Julie. “So you better stop teasing your sister. Otherwise, you might get a visit from la partera herself!”