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My Welita

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My Welita

 

 

 

 

 

August 28th, 2010

Like my Mother making an impression on my children now, my Grandmother aka Welita, made an impression on me. My Welita's parents were originally from Mexico, but had migrated into the United States. The cultures of Mexico were a daily part of my Welita's life. She made handmade tortillas and a potful of Frijoles almost daily. Her house always smelled of Folgers Coffee. She was small in stature, but was full of life. I remember at one time, her salt and pepper hair was down to past the middle of her back and she would braid it and roll it to the top of her head and hold it with a brown hair comb and bobby pins. She was wonderful to cuddle with as she was like a warm yummy cushion of comfort. She bought me donuts from Helm's Bakery Truck and frosty cone icecream from the icecream truck. She was diabetic and I remember her eating oatmeal almost every morning. She would let me scrape the oatmeal risiduals off the sides of her little saucepan. I was an autistic child, so memories come in lapses for me. I remember her dancing in the livingroom on hardwood floors whenever the cumbias came on the radio. She spoke alot of Spanish to me even though most of the time I didn't understand. She wore a brown belt around her waist, so if any of us kids disobeyed, it would come off her waist in a speed of light and snap its latest little defyer. She had a beautiful face and when she smiled, she was missing one of her front molars. My Welita died when I was 7 from complications of her disease. I loved her so much and look forward to meeting her again.