As the early morning sun peers its head around the corner, 

the intoxicating smells of my Tia Tere’s cooking are already filling the house.

The concrete floors of her home send a sudden cold shock through my body.

The feeling is mitigated by the calmness radiated from her loving soul. 

The black dyed strands of her hair flip around her head as she turns around 

to greet me. The table chair screeches as I pull it from under the table which is then followed by a howl as she calls for her daughters to meet us for breakfast. 

Steam radiates off her freshly seasoned eggs and tortillas. She sets the table

for everyone and does not eat until everyone has been taken care of. She is my base 

with no set location. She carries the weight of the entire family and never cracks under the pressure.