My host abuelita

The señora Aurora Reyes, (or Mama Lola, as her relatives call her), is the host-family member whom I seen the most. She is patient, thoughtful and observant. It only took her a few days to figure out that I prefer hot water to juice in the morning, and that Hilary can handle spicy food as well as any mexicano. Almost every day she prepares a new dish for us to try, and if we aren’t sold on it she lets us put together something else instead of taking offense. Even after hosting exchange students for over 10 years she hasn’t grown tired of enunciating tricky vocabulary or correcting badly conjugated verbs.
The señora is the hub of the Reyes familia. Through her door stream kids, grandkids, neighbors, renters, and all of their compañeros, and she makes sure that each one of them leaves content, whether that means a cup of homemade chocolate oaxaqueño or a few hours of their favorite telenovela. She is sweet, yet she is also strong. Divorce, absent fathers and the occasional military invasion have taken their toll on this family, but hers continues to be the go-to house for comfort and security.
The señora is never too busy to sit down for a moment and listen to what you have to say. Nor, for that matter, does she mind sharing her own stories. Several times now, in the calm that follows the busy preparation and execution of the comida, I have had the pleasure of a lovely conversation with her and learned that she is just as mischievous as she is kind. My favorite story thus far is that of her courtship. (I wish you could hear it from her, she does a far better job and gets quite the sparkle in her eye).

The señora was one of eight children living under the thumb of a controlling father. Even hanging out unattended in the front garden was a big deal, but fortunately for Aurora that was all it took.
One afternoon a strapping, young delivery boy stops by to drop off the paper.
“Your newspaper, señorita.”
“Gracias.”
“De nada. Buenas tardes.”
“Buenas tardes.”

This is the dialogue every day for awhile. Then one day he adds a question.
“Your newspaper, señorita.”
“Gracias.”
“De nada. By the way, if you don’t mind me asking, may we be friends?”
“Oh, of course we can be friends.”
“Ok. Buenas tardes.”
“Buenas tardes.”

Time passes, and then a second question arises.
“Your newspaper, señorita.”
“Gracias.”
“De nada. By the way, if you don’t mind me asking, do you have plans to go out tonight?”
“Oh no, my father doesn’t permit me to go out.”
“Oh, ok. Buenas tardes.”
“Buenas tardes.”

A little more time passes, and a third question is asked.
“Your newspaper, señorita.”
“Gracias.”
“De nada. By the way, if you don’t mind me asking, do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, I do not have a boyfriend.”
“Oh, ok. Buenas tardes.”
“Buenas tardes.”

It is at this point that señorita Aurora takes matters into her own hands.
“Papá, mamá, I’ll be gone for a bit. I just need to pick up some embroidery thread.”
“Very good, hija. Don’t be gone too long.”
“I won’t.”

Or the classic.
“Papá, mamá, I’ll be gone for a bit. I’ll just be studying at so-and-so’s house for our exam next week.
“Very good, hija. Don’t be gone too long.”
“I won’t.”

Embroidery thread? Studying? Uh-huh, right.
Three years later, the strapping, young delivery boy actually enters the front garden and knocks on the door of the house. He is greeted cordially and invited inside to sip some café con leche with the familia. A few pleasantries are exchanged, and then he turns to the head of the household.
“Señor, I would like to have permission to marry your daughter, Aurora.”
“Aurora? You know Aurora?”
“Sí, señor.”
“How long have you known her?”
“Three years, señor.”
“Oh. I see.”
(Awkward pause)
“Well, when were you thinking of marrying her?”
“Three weeks from today, señor.”
“Three weeks? Don’t you think that is a little soon?”
“No, señor, I don’t think so. I have wanted to marry her for a long time.”
“Hmmm. Well then, we'd better start planning.”

41 years of marriage, 4 children, and 10 grandchildren ensue. (By the way, the first 30 years of that marriage was spent living under the same roof as the mother-in-law. Did I mention how patient the señora is?) Her husband passed away 6 years ago, and she still misses him like crazy. Not bad for a delivery boy, eh?