I write about my life and life itself seen through my eyes for who can write through the experiences of others if not their own?

Saturday, March 29, 2008


She was merely a few months old when I was invited to a Quince AƱos of a girl born to Colombian parents and raised in the US. I had goose bumps when I saw her dance the Waltz with her father and couldn’t help but marvel at the feat of embracing a tradition she had been raised so far away from. I remember thinking that I wanted my daughter to do the same and I vowed then to keep our culture alive in her by bringing her to Colombia every year. But there were bills to pay and chores to tend and the trip home never materialized and the word Quince was forgotten and never mentioned. Her contact with my culture was reduced to the use of the language and a taste of authentic foods every now and then when we visited Jackson Heights.

Over the years I have seen the baby girl slowly grow into a 9 year old whose cool mother could do no wrong to the now 14 year old who rolls her eyes at the sound of her mother’s voice. Her wit, once a delight in the voice of a kid is now laced with the mockery of her teen years, she is becoming a woman!

Then a year ago, the 14 year old decided on her own that she wants to celebrate her Quince, a tradition she was never exposed to.

Today the invitations are being mailed and some of them will have water stains, stains of the tears that a proud mother cries along with the same goose bumps she felt almost 15 years ago. The little girl is turning into a woman, a woman with determination and a cutting sense of humor…gee; I wonder where she gets the humor from?