Matriarch
by Sofia Rosario
My abuelita made a habit
of spoiling me with sweets and Sunday
dinners with my favorite dishes.
Querida Sofy, mi sueño,
haria cualquier cosa para ti.
Her wrinkled hands, ridden
with experience, worked the dough with ease.
Abuelita’s sopes were saved for special occasions.
What better reason than the return
of her granddaughter?
As we cooked en la cosina
my abuelita told tales of Mexico
and the life she left behind.
Once upon a time, she worked in an office!
A simple receptionist, but she sat at
a desk, and not on a dirty bathroom floor.
She spoke of my tia Sonia, her sister and
best friend. Together they had a side business, selling
barbacoa at the market on the busy weekends.
Twenty-some years have passed since their
last embrace. A single tear escaped her eye.
Solo Dios sabe.
I couldn’t help but ask my abuelita:
Why did she walk away from the
beautiful life she built?
She gave me a small smile as we set the
table, our family quickly coming together.
¿Como podria haberme perdido esto?
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