More Tomorrow's Bedroom Eyes

As a child, I never wrote about More Tomorrow. Many hurricane seasons passed and my decrepit journals were filled with everything, except the village, the land, the river, and those nights.

And then, a piece of More Tomorrow appeared. It walked through the front gate and slid into my life to remind me. Capture me. Again.

And so...I write or else death will be my liberation from things unsaid...


More Tomorrow bedroom eyes is what he had. He was Latino. Greasy brown hair and scruffy. His name...Jose? He was my baby sitter's boyfriend and we met in the village.

My babysitter, Debra, would dance and play with us while my mother worked in town. We had recently moved into a new house, which my mother had built with the help of her friends. A smooth cement floor and ply wood walls couldn't keep More Tomorrow critters out. Snakes squeezed through cracks and mosquitoes feasted on our blood. But it was home...

What happened in that house is planted inside me; it grabs as roots into my feet. The branches stretch into my arms and its twisted vines slither out of my scalp. What happened in that house is between me, them, and God. But ever so often, heavy sap drips from my eyes and the tree must fall.

More Tomorrow offered wild gifts, and I was shy, so we weren't supposed to mix. I was from San Bernadino, California and had never been bitten by a bug. But the river-mouth beckoned and offered swirling currents. My mother would send us to the river to get water: a gallon in each hand my brother and I slid passed the elephant tree. A tree with a mythical secret; a perfect oval carved into its trunk; a dark hole that stretched into a lazy yawn. The resting place for Tataduhende; A short human-creature with no thumbs, who became a friend (but only) to lure men, women, and children away from the village. As we passed the dark hole, I knew Tataduhende was watching us. Waiting for one of us to trip, fall, and black out so he could drag us into his undiscovered abyss. This was the first test. Second: monkeys. The howler monkeys echoed over the river, "Huuuuu, huuuuu!" More Tomorrow villagers called them baboons but I thought they were giants. My mother said that we 'shouldn't fear them' as most Muslims would recite Allah huu huu as well; so they were praying, just like us. The final test was wading into the deeper parts of the river, without being sucked under by the pulling currents.

But some days, the shallow waters were kind and offered itself as sweet and clean as well. Dipping the empty gallons into the surface, I'd watch as the water was sucked into its thirsty mouths. The river bank was steep, so going back up would be tricky, especially if water sloshed out of the gallons, which always happened. Digging my toes into the red clay and pushing all of my weight down was the best way to waddle up the bank. As we emerged, I always felt that we survived a great thing, that I had made it. That the river bank had let me out. That it was giving me back to the village up above. That it gave me freedom...freedom to stay alive.

The river swallowed me. Tasted me. Tested me. I had an out-of-body experience while water slid into my contorted mouth and choking throat. I saw my hair flowing behind me as my hands scratched at the heavy water. I held onto the underwater branches and climbed. The air pushed inside and I was alive.