To My Mama,
Thank you for being my mom. Or, as I actually call you, “Ma”. Although now you live in Oklahoma and never cook me camarones al mojo de ajo (hint, hint), you will always be my mommy.
When I hear Juan Gabriel, I think of you. When I see babies and think of their feet as empanadas, I think of you. When I laugh really hard and a little too loud, and I sound just like you, I think of you. When I’m sick and wish I had some albondigas with lots of salsa Guacamaya, I think of you. When I’m at the department store and go by the perfume counter; when its Thanksgiving and the table doesn’t seem complete without enchiladas on it too; when I see the color fuchsia; when any one of a hundred funny Mexican expressions go through my head; when there is a sale on shoes, I think of you.
Ma, I think of you always. Tomorrow, on Dia de las Madres, I will remember to call you and tell you I’m thinking of you, but even on those days when I don’t remember to tell you, I still think of you.
Thank you for being you: a strong, intelligent, crazy, fuchsia-wearing, hard-working, hilarious mom.
I think of you often and love you always,
Tannya
























