Abuelita

Recently Chris and I were in California for his cousin's wedding. During the stay I had the opportunity to spend time with Chris's grandmother. We all call her Abuelita, which is Spanish for grandma. She prefers that over anything else. Her real name is Clara.

When I look at her she reminds me slightly of my grandmothers and how I miss them terribly. Abuelita is clearly different from them though. She hums as she sweeps her kitchen, speaks only in a foreign language I could only hope to understand and speak fluently, and she sings and claps for baby Bradley, whom she calls bebe because she cannot pronounce his name.

I tried my best to speak what little Spanish I know to her and she tries her best to speak what little English she knows to me. I was once told, "The eyes are the windows to a person's soul," and this holds true with Abuelita. There is something pure and genuine deep inside her soul.

As I looked at her sweeping her kitchen floor, as saw the years of work behind her, living in a foreign country, moving to California, taking care of her children, even though now they are grown, there was something she carried that carried me away with her. I felt like I was miles away, distant from anything around me, foreign to my surroundings.

While in Petaluma, Abuelita and I didn't say much, for even though we were in the same city we were worlds apart, yet connected in some strange way. I looked at her as that foundation that truly did hold her family together. I may never honestly know who is she is or what she is saying, but I can just look into those windows to her soul and be blanketed in her genuine heart.