Tomorrow, my daughter and I will fly south to Miami, to visit family and build sand castles on Miami Beach.
I always day dream about palm trees, big puffy clouds and the calming sound of surf for days before we leave. From all these miles away, I can taste the thick, sweet Cuban coffee and the Colombian arepas I love so much. Going home makes me happy.
Read Full Post
Last week, my daughter put on a shiny gold tutu and melted my heart as she showed off her ballet moves and her fabulous, free-style "wiggle-wiggle-pop."
Then, for a few nights going she has broken my heart when she has cried and told me she is afraid of dying.
A mother isn't supposed to imagine her child dying, nor feel helpless about her child's fear of dying.
Read Full Post
A large red envelope with a big heart and my name on it came home from school with Maria this week.
Inside were Thank You notes from the children with whom I have been reading this school year. It made my heart swell.
"Yo me gusta espanol'' one 5-year-old wrote out phonetically and with backwards Ys and Ss. The card had a house, a tree and a pencil-colored heart. Sweetness, total sweetness. A few were drawings of me, which completely cracked me up.
Read Full Post
Maria and I spent a sunny and warm afternoon this week potting and re-potting flowers and herbs. It was the first real chance we've gotten during what has been a rainy and cold spring in Nashville. She smelled the basil and mint leaves, she played with a worm, she watered, and over-watered, the wooly thyme.
Read Full Post
Before our daughter was born, it was tradition that my husband and I donned costumes for our annual holiday photo. One year we were Elvis and a Dolly-wanna-be in front of a car with a giant chicken on its roof (we live in Nashville, remember) and another year we dressed up as Frida Khalo and Diego Rivera (I am Latin and moody, remember). For the Frida shoot, I painted on a unibrow and wore a headband of silk roses that I meticulously created with the help of a glue gun and patience.
Read Full Post
I am not an overly protective mother and when it comes to my kid -- my strong, feisty girl of 5 -- I tend not to worry too much and lean toward "walk it off'' before I freak out.
But, of course, the girl who hasn't had more than a cold or an ear infection since she was 17-months, gets a fever of 102 in the middle of a Swine Flu scare.
My girl rushed at me last night in a blur of pink stripes and bouncy brown hair.
"Mami!'' she yelled, running toward me, arms outstretched.
Few sights ever have been better.
I picked my Maria up and squeezed her with all my strength. She squeezed back with all of hers. We both smiled broadly, oblivious to anyone else in the Nashville airport.
Read Full Post
As the date arrives each beautiful spring, I am grateful and even a little amused that, wow, we've made it another year.
I don't say that to imply there is much thought to not making it every year, but rather to point out I celebrate we haven't become part of the well-known statistic -- the 50% that doesn't make it. And we're also not part of the statistical group that lives miserably together on a daily basis. Amen for that.
Read Full Post
stay connected