Pamela Guerrero, Sophomore, English, Arlington, TX
My mother taught me to measure
from the heart. And like all beginners,
I was a skeptic toward the lack
of technique. But when the salsa
had a bit too much heat or the flan
came out perfectly sweet, I realized
that the flavors I swallowed
were that of my mother’s
anger and content. Her working
hands, meticulous in the flour,
were a testament to her day.
(And all of this to say:
Mother, I took a page
from your cookbook
and it all made sense
as I read the first line,
“An Act of Self Healing.”)