I’ll take you to Mextiza where your son works as a chef.
We would eat the delicious food he makes and let you gaze at him from the bar table, watching him work.
I’ll stare at your face as you take your first bite of what your son prepared for us and see it lit up with proud as you look at us, your children, from across the dinning table.
While we eat, I would tell you everything you missed. Starting from elementary school up until now and extending on your son’s graduation followed by my graduation.
I would tell you about your son’s girlfriend and when you frown I would elaborate that she loves your son.
I’d tell you about my boyfriend and watch you look at me with uncertainty. We would quiet down the minute the waitress brings a weird looking soup to our table telling us that your son prepared it especially for us and then a few minutes later your son would walk up to our table to hug you tightly and then hug me briefly.
The three of us would remind each other of how much we love one another and that we would always be together, no matter what.
After my brother leaves our table, I would listen to your lecture about dying my hair this certain color, as we wipe our tears away.
I’d ask you any question that comes to mind to get a better picture of you, the woman who gave birth to me.
We would discuss about woman stuff as we take a sip out of our favorite soda: Pepsi.
You would stare at my eyes and see my tears spill as I tell you how much I’ve missed you and how much I needed you with me.
You would wipe the tears away, hold me tightly and tell me “I have always been with you”