Her Roots by Lizette Tecuapetla























I remember the house where I was born

my Tia’s hidden garden in our backyard

my treasured hideaway, filled with the brightest sunflowers

so close, yet so far from the blue sky

Bright flowers of multi-hues

shine as the sun peak through cloudy a.m. skies

the roses

Red and White

my grandmother’s favorites

You sigh

It’s different here

you are at peace here

out of sight. Out of mind from the world

this is my place of comfort and familiarity

where every inch of the ground calls out to you as they want to be explored

I remember where I used to swing

ever so high

holding on as tight as I could to the unsturdy rope tied upon the tree

an object so simple yet it transmitted me around my neighborhood

you are free to get lost and play

I remember the flower lady that stood on Imperial hwy and Central avenue

with giant flower buckets

I remember seeing the ice cream truck approaching down the street

the way I ran as quickly as I could to ask my mum for money

I remember the different scents that flowed in the air

the smoke that filled the air as my next door vecinos grilled outdoors

the type of scent that made me look forward to weekends

Carnitas on the grill

oranges searing as they hit the grill

carne asada marinating, waiting to be sampled

our typical type of weekends

when all the tias and tios invited themselves over at our home

the loud ranchera songs that my Tio San Juan never got tired of playing

days filled with laughter and loud voices as we played Loteria

If I had the power to turn back the clock

go back to that house at the start of the block

the house that was HOME when I was a kid

I know I’d love it more now that I did before.