MM. again.


Tonight Grams and I were sitting having coffee. We were talking about food, the different kinds she’s helped prepare for special occasions over the years. She genuinely loves cooking and being in the kitchen. Once upon a time she would prepare vast quantities of food for various family events, baptisms, quinceañeras, weddings… I can’t help but think to how strongly I dislike being in the kitchen. It holds zero appeal for me.

“What menu are we going to plan for my wedding Grams?” She smiled, “How can you be sure your future husband will want the wedding here in Mexico?” She’s assuming, of course, my future mans will be American. Funny how her view of my future is at odds with my Grandfather, who firmly believes I will remain in Mexico.

“We can have two parties! Besides, you sincerely think I would marry a man who would refuse to set foot here?” Whoever I marry will have to accept and honor the fact that I am, after all a hybrid.

Even as the words slipped from my lips, I thought to him. The MM.

99a53588c85d0825_tumblr_l9txxsuxtu1qbs8umo1_r1_500

Ridiculous! I know it, there’s no need for anyone to point it out. The man who has marked me the most, the one who played such a huge role in shaping me and my ideas of love, marriage… The one man who, for all the importance he’s had in my life was never really mine.

I could draw comparisons forever. I likely will. He will always be the yardstick by which I measure all other men. The connection we had, the chemistry. The way he made me feel beautiful and strong and desirable. I can’t conceive of experiencing all that again. Can’t believe it could exist with anyone other than him.

I pictured him here, tall and blond. I can recall the sound of his voice with perfect clarity; can hear him laugh at himself, unable to understand enough Spanish to carry on a conversation with my assorted family members. I can imagine the joy of claiming him as my own, in front of my family. I can see myself standing beside him. Khaki pants and a light dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His arm hair, gold in the sunlight.

My mans.

Leave a Comment