Smells like the mixing of sugar, honey, milk.
Like Abuelita’s kitchen.
She wasn’t the greatest of cooks,
But I loved watching.
Her soft, fleshy hands,
Red polished fingernails, preparing meals.
Humming melodies, accompanied by a much too loud television show.
She never asked me for help.
I was too involved in watching to offer.
She use to call me “linda”, Said I was beautiful, and I felt it.
I eat bread pudding solely for the act of remembering her.
© Vanessa "Chica" Ferreira. Published by permission in Centro Voices on 24 April 2015.