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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