Where I am From

“Uno, dos, tres…” My bisabuela Julia skillfully enunciates each word.

I sit in her lap, gazing up at her in pure adoration

as my three-year-old mouth stumbles clumsily through the words

that had just spilled so gracefully from hers.

The frijoles negros bubble away on the stovetop

as my tías gossip vivaciously in Spanish.

My tíos are locked into an intense game of chess and

my primos scurry through the house caught up in a game of hide & seek

while a game of baseball blares noisily on the television.

This is where I am from.

I am from coffee and flan,

from chess and baseball.

I am from the endless chatter of rapid-fire Spanish

and the bright melody of Latin music.

And even though Cuba is only a piece of who I am,

it is inarguably one of the most important.

Having immigrant family has given me a unique perspective

that shapes who I am every day.