A Grandma’s love is priceless
Solid like fruit trees
Tender and sweet like apricot cobbler.
“Come on young’ins,” she calls to us in that warm New Orleans drawl, waiting to hold our hands with hers
Hands that raised eight children, cooked up adobo dreams, and handed a piece of her feisty mind to whomever bothered.
A Grandma’s love is priceless
Blunt like Mardi Gras
Consistent and graceful like a Catholic mass
Humble like Thanksgiving bellies full of pancit and southern humor.
A Grandma’s love is priceless
Thick like East Los Angeles history and insistent like Mama Frances’s vigilance on justice
Intentional and unapologetic like Crisostomo Christmas feasts on Muscatel Avenue
A Grandma’s love is fun like a New Orleans brass band, rainy day movies, off color jokes, and junk food parties
Festive and direct like black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day
A Grandma’s love is the soft and profound stare of her last days,
The lingering heaven-sent embrace.
Our Grandma’s love is priceless.
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