The salty taste of arroz con gandules, carne vieja, with a slice of cold aguacate.
Holding hands while the daytime novela played in the background, waiting for Mami to come home and get me.
She sings himnos under her breath while he looks out the window, a chorus of bird songs accompanying her melody.
I sit on the chilly tile floor, preferring this to the sofa with the plastic on it.
He was always so quiet.
Her voice always loud and commanding.
They were perfectly in harmony somehow as they rocked in their chairs, while I daydreamed and loved them.
