A Boy Named Drew

    I was lying down in my couch watching a movie, ok perhaps I was dozing off when a familiar smell pulled me off my dream. It was the smell of my grandmother's casquitos coming out of the kitchen. It was unmistakable, just smelling it would make my mouth water for my favorite pastry. So many times I had seen her making them; her wrinkly fingers rolled the dough to perfection. She was so precise; there was so much love on each perfect roll. I ran into the kitchen upset, she had not called me to watch her this time. I loved our chats while she made them and even more the silent moments we shared together. She never told anyone all the ingredients; "it’s a secret recipe she claimed." As I walked in she said with a smile, "don't worry, I am about to make another batch." I sat down with a proud smile; she knew I was great help.

Grandma tried to fill the gap left by my mother. Mom did not live with us and I feel I would not know her if it wasn't for my grandma's stories. Grandma looked at me and gave me a warm casquito that melted in my mouth, the sugar, the sweetness of the pastry were only hers. I watched my aunts try to make them again and again, it never tasted the same. Grandma said, "your mom loved casquitos, I made them for her every week." Grandma knew my eyes missed seeing mom, my arms wanted to hug her again and again once more. How can you miss someone you barely know, I thought. Grandma could always sense my sadness and interrupted with a story. "You know what your mom said the day you were born" She asked. "What?" I said with excited curiosity. "As she held you close for the first time she said she had never felt so safe in her life, she said the love she felt for you gave meaning to her life and she understood what family meant." I smiled back at grandma. If only I could believe it, if only I could remember her warmth, if only I could see what grandma saw one day maybe just maybe I could feel that same love for myself.

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