Memories With a Side of Salsa and Love
Six months after my mother-in-law’s death, Sara and I spent Christmas alone. In our desire for normalcy, we put up a last-minute Charlie Brown tree and sung along to holiday classics. But a weighty emptiness filled the room, and everything felt forced.
Even drinking coquito and eating Ma’s traditional Christmas meal of pasteles with arroz and gandules tasted bland.
After dinner, Sara plopped into Ma’s recliner and closed her eyes. “I can still smell her.”
“I miss her, too.”
