A Red Carnation

 Luza, my mom.

Luza, my mom.

She was twenty-five when she got married.

She was twenty-six when she became a mother.

She was forty-one when she gave birth to me, the youngest of her six children.

She was forty-seven when she found herself exiled in a new and foreign country.

She was fifty when she became a grandmother.

She was eighty-five when she became a widow.

She was eighty-six when she became a great-grandmother.

She turned one-hundred-two this year.

So much life....

My family continues the Cuban tradition of wearing carnations on Mother's Day. A red carnation if your mother is still alive and a white one if she is not.

My indomitable mother is still making plans every day. Por si las moscas.

At one-hundred-two, she is most definitely ALIVE.

I will very gratefully and with great pride be wearing my red carnation on Mother's Day this year.

Happy Mother's Day!