A Stretchkin Full of Memories
- hibiscus focus
- Jan 9
- 4 min read
Updated: Jan 25
By: Mia Romero-Raborg
It’s midnight and my whole family is in the living room sitting around the Christmas tree, this is my 7th Christmas. I already knew what I was going to receive, and it was the biggest present in the room. I unwrapped the box and I felt a rush of excitement. I was completely obsessed with Stretchkins as a kid. I saw them on TV advertisements all the time, and would always beg my parents and abuelita to buy me one. My mom always joked that my abuelita spoiled me too much, and it was true. She was my perfect abuelita, and any chance that I had to speak with her I took. We talked about school, her life, advice, and it always made me feel good how patient she was with me.
In the morning I’d make sure my Stretchkin was nicely set up on my bed after making it. My Stretchkin looked very worn from me always being with it, you could only see a little bit of the glitter on her horn. My abuelita also loved to look neat and tidy. She never left the house if she wasn't dressed up, she went to bed with rollers in her hair so her hair would look nice for the next day. She was always presentable, so was my Stretchkin.
I remember in fifth grade my class had a one week trip to London, the teachers told us to only pack the necessities. I wish I could’ve brought my Stretchkin but I wasn’t able to fit her in my luggage. The trip went well, but I was really looking forward to being back home and going to bed with my Stretchkin. When the trip ended, I told my mom all about London and the places our class went, but in my head I was thinking about my Stretchkin and finally being back home.
As soon as I walked through the door I ran straight to my room, something felt different. Maybe my mom had made my bed and changed the sheets? After looking around a bit more, I realized that my Stretchkin might've been swapped out for a new one. Before I went to London, my Stretchkins purple hair had been stuck together and the horn was gray and dull because my abuela tried to wash it. But now my Stretchkin looks brand new. I felt like a harsh wave crashed over me, it took me a while to actually feel anything; I didn’t know what to feel. I went up to my mom and asked why she changed it. “I wanted to surprise you! The other one was already dirty, you needed this change.” In my heart, I felt like that wasn’t the real reason. My mom told me later that it was my abuela’s idea to get the new one, she felt bad the other was dirty, not that I cared. I felt a bit better knowing it was her idea and that it wasn’t just supposed to be a surprise but rather an apology. I wondered why I had to learn about that from my mom instead of my abuela, why wouldn’t she tell me herself? I wouldn’t be mad, and also she looked fine enough to tell me, so why didn’t she tell me? Maybe she didn’t feel well? But she looked the same? All these thoughts of what could be wrong took over my head.
In 6th grade was when I finally noticed how sick my abuela really was. It took me a while to realize but once I did everything made sense. It was like finding the last piece for a puzzle that you desperately needed. She seemed fine as usual, she always had her vibrant red lipstick on and her fancy earrings, but it was her routine that had mostly changed. She’d start the day with plain oatmeal and then her caretaker would assist her with her oxygen machine, after she was done with that then she would get ready. The first thing she used to do was get changed, take out the rollers in her hair, put on lipstick, and then earrings. Though she tried to hide it from me by making sure she always wore makeup, I could see her spark fading. Some days she wouldn’t put on lipstick, or wear any earrings, and sometimes she’d leave her hair with the rollers on for the whole day. That's when I really started to notice.
One night at around 10pm or a bit later I was woken up by the sound of my mom talking to my abuela quietly and the sounds of ambulance sirens slowly getting louder and louder and closer to my house. The walls are thin, I can hear almost everything my mom is saying, it’s mostly her reassuring my abuela that everything will be fine. I held onto my Stretchkin tightly. The paramedics came in and walked out with my abuela on a stretcher, before they left my mom told me to say goodbye to my abuela. “Bye, te amo.” my abuela said, her voice was quiet but loud enough to hear. After she was in the ambulance my mom rushed me to my friend's house who didn't live far away. She told me I’d spend the night there until the morning. Everything was so quick, I forgot to bring my Stretchkin to her house. My abuela passed away that night, and I slept without my beloved Stretchkin.
One morning, after some time had passed, I made my bed like usual. Except I didn't take the time to properly set up my Stretchkin. After a while, I started caring less about making her look perfect. It wasn't necessarily that I didn't care, but I had started to find interest in new things. As I’ve grown up, I’ve learned that dealing with loss is painful but an inevitable part of life. I still love my abuelita, and I still love my Stretchkin. That love will always remain with me.
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