Given the circumstances-bad- it was sad that we all had to come together. But given the time-near a decade- that it had been since we were all breathing the same oxygen it was necessary. I came back feeling more connected with my heritage than I have in a long time. The banter that switched like a tennis match from spanish to english, sassy to compassionate was enough to give anybody from a nice, quiet family severe whiplash. Seeing my tia was a highlight. Receiving her bracelet was a gift that I will actually cherish (at the risk of sounding rancidly cliche, it smells like her). But the show stealer was my primo Edwin. I don’t think I understood what it meant for a child to teach you until he taught me the importance of seeing life at a burial “Abuela can’t come over here because she gets semimental”. This should happen more often, si, no, capiche?
Yee
(Source: dr0wningmermaid, via this--too--shall--pass)
