i stop to think about the old times, when only bright colors stroked across our canvas. nothing like gray or black. i always have this necklace.

my Abuelita Chelo sent it from Mexico. It has my name, Yosimar, carved in the back.

i look up to my abuela. there was never a gloomy day when she was here.

she left back to Mexico when i was learning to crawl. still trying to figure out how words fell upon my tongue. it has been 13 years since then. now I walk. i have even become part of my words. just like abuela has become

part

of

me

my Abuela, kind-hearted and welcoming, reminds me of my mom. i sometimes wish i could be a bit more like them. bring peace with my voice. tranquility from my eyes.

she calls from time to time. “besos mi nina.” “kisses my girl.”

i always hold onto the necklace when i feel unsafe. nervous. i know Abuela is always with me. i always think she was the one who made things easier.

i wish she could still be here, not only through the necklace. here to make things better again.

thank you Abuela.