Portrait of Ce-cee on Handkerchief

I like spending time with my niece. She is my little sister’s daughter. Her name is Camila Crystal Esparza, but I call her Ce-cee, short for her full name. As a baby, I would talk to her. Can you picture a guy full of tattoos, baby-talking and making noises just to see her smile? That’s what we did, and it stuck with her in some form as she grew. So, when I have a chance to call, I ask for her, and she’s like, “I love you, Tio” (uncle in Spanish). When she does that, it cracks my heart because I want to see her. It’s like she can wrap her hands around my heart and squeeze a little. You know what’s funny? She’s very manipulative. She’d be like, “Tio, will you get me McDonald’s?” I look at her and be like, “You know what, shorty? You can have whatever you want.”

Talking about her brings back memories of my sister, Ce-cee’s mother, Lucy. I used to feed my little sister, burp her. She was so little. I used to fall asleep with her on my chest. Yeah, I took care of her.
I have a tattoo of her name on my hand. I still have to get a portrait of my niece on me, but that’s later.

I never really fought with my sister, but I always used to get onto her for good reasons because she’s the one that tried to stick things in the electricity socket, you know, like, “Are you trying to kill yourself?” I always cared for my sister. I never wanted anything bad for her, so I pushed her to study and do her homework. She hated it. I wanted her to graduate, go to college, live a better life. At the time,
I didn’t care about myself. I was lost. I think she knew because I always took care of her, checking on her like, “Are you okay, shorty?” She would be like, “Yeah, okay.” When I would come home, she would run,
hug me, and say, “My brother!” This is how much she cared and laid attention. I was so lost that I didn’t even realize she actually knew because as I’m leaving, she’s like running, saying, “Ray! Wait!”
I turn around, and she has a gray bandana in her hand and says, “Ray! You forgot your flag!” I walk up to her, cup her face with both my hands, and ask her, “Lucy, how do you know it’s called a flag?”
She actually rolled her eyes like it was a stupid question. It cracked my heart to leave that day, but I still left. I have her name tattooed on my hand. Lucy is a part of my heart, so she has a place on my skin