Even though we keep in touch on a regular basis through Facebook, my dad has never met my son. I haven't been able to visit them for the last 11 years and I miss them so much. Mostly I want them to spend time with my dad, who has a great sense of humor and is eager to share his life with my kids. I want them to hear my family speaking in their rapid, Castilian Spanish, and experience being kissed on both cheeks every time they meet someone. I want them to run around the streets with the other children and feel the smooth cobblestones beneath their feet. I want them to hear the beautiful songs of the canaries that everyone hangs outside their doors, lining the streets with their heartfelt canto. I want them to have the opportunity to wake up to the smell of fresh churros for breakfast made by the abuelas in the plaza. And I desperately want my children to have the experience in their childhood of being surrounding by their Spanish roots. As a child, I spent many summers there with my father. It is a precious part of me that I treasure always. For those of you who don't know, my dad and his side of the family live in Spain.
I've often talked about my Mexican heritage, but I realized that I don't often talk about my Spanish heritage.
Yesterday, my friend Silvia at Mama Latina Tips celebrated Mexico by sharing a delicious recipe for tacos al pastor. I can't wait to try and make it on my own. To start things off, I'm happy to be participating a blog hop celebrating Hispanic Heritage.
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