Reading and editing these posts has given me a glimpse, my own little window, into my Grandparents kitchen. I never had the joy and the privilege of getting to know my Abuela Chuy, but now I’ve experienced sitting at her table enjoying a cafecito and a galletita. I’ve been to my mother’s small town many times but now I’ve run and played with her beyond the train tracks in the empty dirt lot. It’s an honor to know that the old park my cousins and I have played at in Calipatria, was built there in part by my Tata’s influence. Maybe it’s a daughter’s rose colored glasses, but I am captivated and transported to that little neighborhood in the barrio on the Eastside.