Tere ushered me in to my great-aunt’s Epifania’s bedroom. It was the first moment she’d had a chance to pull me away from my all my uncles, aunts and cousins. They didn’t notice my absence as they were too busy preparing the elotes they’d just picked from the milpa.

I could still hear my uncles talking and the kids running around when I walked in to the cool, dim room. Across from the door, tía Epifania was lying in her bed.

Tere announced, “Abuelita, viene Cindy, la hija de mi tío Carlos, a visitarla.”

I moved closer to greet her, expecting that she wouldn’t remember me and barely remember my dad. After all, my dad’s visits to Salamanca have been sparse over the years.

She greeted me kindly and then studied me from her bed.

“Se parece a Luz, a su mamá” she said to my cousin Tere.

I was surprised. I don’t hear that too often, except when I’m around my dad’s family in Guanajuato.