Destiny is a fickle thing, but a fickle thing that moves us throughout our lives. Everyone has a destiny, a fate, a so-called path to walk in this life. Some have shorter paths and some have paths that go on for miles. Some have paths that lead them easily through life and others have harder paths that bend and twist, leading to heartache and turmoil. My path was chosen long before I was born in a dim-lit tavern when my mother met him. That was the night that sealed my path…and the night that would one day lead me to my destiny.

She had the most beautiful hair. That's the one thing that I remember when someone asks me about my Mama. I close my eyes and picture the way she used to scrub at our clothes in the river with her hair flowing free down her back. It was a tumble of black waves that shown in the sun and I would run to her, my skinny arms circling her waist and let my fingers curl up into her locks. She would smile and rest her chin on the top of my head, "Mi angel." She would whisper, her dark eyes shining and I remember thinking how lucky I was to have an angel for a Mama.

I would sit on the banks, crunching on an apple while she scrubbed the clothes and laid them out on the sand to dry. When she was finished setting them out, she'd walk to my side and collapse, pulling me to her and tickling me just to see a smile on my face. Then, we'd sit and watch the waves dance, our bare toes digging into the earth, while my Mama sang or told me a story. To me, that bank was Heaven.

Her eyes would sometimes get sad as she studied the moving water and once I asked her…what made her worry. 'Worry?' She'd ask with a light grin, 'Machado's don't worry'. But there was worry in her eyes as if she was expecting something dangerous, something dark to come washing up from the passage that led to the ocean. It turns out she was right, something or rather someone came to shore and marked the end of my life with my Mama.