My grandmother grew up in a land
Of monuments renamed for the vanity of the powerful
Of bitten tongues and tense silences
Where the dollar reigned over
A land of blood-slick streets
Of missing fathers and brothers
And girls who walked out of office doors with a limp
As the will of the powerful dominated
But
When I ask her about her childhood
She smiles
Recalls laughter and music in her mother's kitchen
Even as the portrait of Trujillo above the door would leer
Playing with her cousins in crystal blue water
Sun kissing brown skin
How the days felt endless and beautiful
As boots marched down her streets
She sighs wistfully
Tells me about the business school she attended
Her plans to go to pharmacy school
My smile cracks around the edges here
The part where she doesn’t
Where she gets married
Has my father
I’m thinking about her as I stare at my computer
Eyes squinted and dry
Fingers cramped as I wring my brain out onto my keyboard
Chest tight
As I try to calculate how many hours
I must work
To afford a bed frame
And not miss class
My father walks in with a smile
I know he’s proud
He thanks God that I’m smarter than he was at my age
I pray that one day it feels that way
He hands me an old passport
And there she is
My Grandmother
Freshly 18
And under her name,
“Estudiante”
Her smile is wide, her eyes bright and deep brown
Hair pouffed and styled
Pearls adorn her neck
I try to imagine her at that age
Still the unwaveringly practical woman I know and love
Just earlier in the process
Stumbling over English
Struggling to fit in a country that didn’t want her
Enduring stares and whispers from coworkers and friends alike
But still
Eager
Hungry
And for the first time in years
I feel like I know something
Estudiante
page revision: 8, last edited: 24 Jul 2025 18:04