Whenever my family gets together, inevitably stories of the past come up. My parents, their siblings, and friends love to reminisce about their younger years. It’s common to hear childhood tales of my mother and her sisters walking home from school through the narrow streets in Aguadilla, Puerto Rico and the people they’d run into. Or perhaps it’s my father sharing with us yet again how his father would take him along to work at Ramey Air Force Base and they’d listen to music together as my abuelo pressed the clothes. According to my dad, this is why he came to love music so much.
Regardless of what story is being shared, one thing remains constant. The joy on my parents’ face as they retell their memories is sure to bring you joy as well. Watching them and listening to their stories always made for an interesting evening. Even when they shared the sadder stories, like when I learned that my mom ate sopa de pan (breadcrumbs in broth) one too many times as a child, they still did so with excitement, nostalgia, and joy. They love to pass on their memories and personally, it gives me a lot of insight into our family’s history.
I still love to hear my parents tell their stories and occasionally ask them to share ones I have already heard many times. Each time, some small new detail they forgot to mention before comes to light. Hearing these stories provides a glimpse into what my parents were like as children and why they are the way they are today.
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