The annual Christmas at the beach with the Aitkens came and went in a burst of sand, hugs and ocean sounds.
The Coca Christmas came and went with the coldest wind chill. However, we stayed warm.
We payed our respects to the memory of my Papa Goyo, who left this earth, time or place a year ago. Wherever you are my dear abuelito...Te Amo, me Has Hecho Falta.
We ate like the gods. The hands of my mother carry with them spices. Only as intriguing as her strength and loud contagious laughter.
The ties that bind led my father and I to watch the movie San Salvador after everyone fell asleep. A very typical 80s depiction of a journalist traveling into the trails of a third world country ravaged by war and corruption. However, that night my father recalled the most important moment in the history of my family. He worded the plight of the escape from torture. He told me the story he has only told me twice. The emotion livid and palpable. He shared with me all his love and sacrifice. The best gift of them all this Christmas.
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