Amused eyes and a bright smile,
the crisp green paper in my hand.
Dampness of sweat rolling down my back.
Upbeat melody of “Home on the Range”,
children pushing each other for a place in line.
Finally, finally
Getting my first taste,
Raspa.
Sweetness and the sting of cold,
hot coins jingle in my pocket.
Later, lines of concentration form on the old woman standing over the stove.
The house smells of freshly made tortillas.
A shrill voice yells out the names of children.
Laughing family sits at the table,
Matriarch and Patriarch take the first bites.
My stomach sings with joy.
These memories,
My Favorite Summer,
Deeply carved into my heart.