Everything my mommy said is true
The quesillo arrived that morning and the smell of pupusas filled the freezing air. Mothers talked to me in Spanish and their kids spoke to me in perfect English. Salvadorans wearing snow hats and parkas walked in and out of the kitchen, always greeting me with hand and eye contact. It was as if Long Island and Chalatenango had been fused together in that house. I sat with my coffee as the moms told me stories and clapped new pupusas into existence. Food, herbal medicine, racist police…the topics flowed as fast as I could follow them. One of the...
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