My Mom often tells me that when I was born I was so small that I slept in a doll’s bassinet. My Abuelo, her father, called me his granito
de arroz; his preferred frame of reference for small, I guess. I remained his granito de arroz, his favorite nieta until he passed away when I was eight. Years later, he remains one of the biggest influences in my life.
He showed me what it was to have someone love and support me unconditionally. He believed I could do no wrong, which I guess was understandable considering how young I was when he was in my life. But I grew up believing that were he still here,
he would still see me in that light. He would be my biggest cheerleader.
Having that image in my mind, his eyes filled with love, his face looking at me as if I was the most precious being on Earth, helps me to be the person I am; helps me to believe that there is very little I can’t do. I see his face in the many people in my life who support me; who love me unconditionally; who pick me up each time I fall and I know that though he couldn’t stay here to be with me, he left me in good hands.
I miss him today, a little more than usual, so I wanted to dedicate this post to him, mi abuelo: Domingo Vázquez.
Tu Granito de Arroz