Why I Won’t Let Go of My Spanish Roots

In the mid 1960’s a beautiful, petite woman from Madrid, Spain was defiant and brave and told her parents she was traveling to the US for a job opportunity.

Her parents and brother were livid and told her a woman had no place leaving their homeland for the unknown.

She did it anyway, worked at the Spanish Embassy in Washington D.C., took classes at GW University, met a Yankee, fell in love and the rest is history.

My mom was so courageous and because of her valiance, my siblings and I and her nine grandchildren live and breath Spanish everything.

When I was in elementary school I remember being embarrassed that my mom was the one with the accent that many friends had a hard time understanding. I wished I was like my other “American friends.”

What I foolishly didn’t realize is what an incredible gift my mama had given to us being born and raised in Spain. We were the beneficiaries of so many magical things. The gift of a second language, traveling to Spain, food, music, culture and most importantly, la familia.

Sadly, my mama has been gone for 23 years now. A lifetime without her love, her laugh, her wisdom. I miss her every day and wish so much that she could have been here to see her grandkids growing up. 

Genes are not just DNA, they are the blueprint of who we are and the kinds of people we become. I’m so grateful for everything my mom embodied in all of her Spanishness and how much she made sure we would always embrace our heritage and keep traditions alive.

I see parts of her in each of my kids. Caity’s love and proficiency of languages, Lexie’s fiery personality and love of Spanish music, Kerri’s no fear attitude and beautiful coloring and Jack’s wit and love of soccer.

Our mom may be gone from this world, but we are not letting go of our roots, no matter how many years pass. Next week I am going to Spain with Lexie and meeting my sister and her family there. 

I can’t wait to sightsee, eat and drink our way through Spain and spend lots of time with cousins and friends. 

We have family who live in a small town in the North of Spain. By our American standards they have very little. They live in tiny apartments in a broken down town, with just enough money to put food on the table and you have never seen such happy, loving people. 

Life is simple there, really simple, but they find joy in a delicious fresh peach, a cool breeze on a hot summer night and the company of loved ones.

They don’t need much to be happy. They know that true joy isn’t in things, but rather in having health, family and friends. 

Living in the US where we are always told “more is better”, it’s hard sometimes not to succumb to that message.  

I’m so grateful for my Spanish mama and the roots that run so deep that I know no matter where I am, as long as I have my family and friends, I already have it all.

Salud to my beautiful mama and the roots I will never let go of…