"Como Amaneció?" The Taste and Sound of Home
By Noël Russell
My grandma was the greatest love I’ve ever known.
She was my soul's resting spot - the single place that felt like the wholeness of home.
I’d spend most of my summers nestled in her presence,
Soaking up the warmth of her care, each drop of her affection, and breathing in every gust of her goodness.
In the mornings she would wake me under mismatched cobijas.
Brushing the sun-speckled back of her hand across my forehead, she’d whisper
“Te amo, querida. Como amaneció?
But I was also too lazy to learn Spanish, so instead I’d answer back,
“Good morning, Grandma.”
She made the best tamales and the most delicious fideo.
She grew the brightest roses and the juiciest oranges ever to exist.
But I was too lazy to learn how to work the earth like her, to harvest its goodness and usher its blessing into flourishing for my people
So instead,
I’d lounge beneath the bows of citrus, sucking in the scent of brilliant blooms, and dined in abundance like a queen.
The day she left me was the moment I felt most alone
Lost without the love that kept me anchored
Empty voids echoing with longing for the wholeness of home
But then,
I began to practice Spanish.
I tried my hand at growing trees, sowing flowers, and cooking food from my roots.
I’d cry tears into seed beds, and sweat streams over boiling cauldrons of dried chilis and cumin.
I’d dole piles of red noodles and husk-wrapped gifts onto plates,
And pray flourishing on my people.
And I waited.
And then,
when spring buds burst open under the gold morning sun –
shining from the space where her soul soars freely.
And when the warming winds whistled through branches bent heavy with first fruits –
The very air her spirit rests in.
I whispered,
“Te amo, querida. Como amaneció?
…Te amo, te amo, te amo,
I’m home.”
This piece is a part of Comestible Issue 9, a special online edition devoted to the wisdom, knowledge, and inspiration from the women who came before us.
Papercut illustration by Anna Brones
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