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When my mother came to visit a few winters ago, I gave her a list of request: no sweeping my house, no doing my dishes, no trying to pick up my mess, to cook only if she wanted, and to, please, please, write down her childhood memories.
Against my request, she did all of the above.
With the diligence of an insect my mother sat at my computer and wrote down a hundred and so pages of the things she remember about growing up. At the end of her visit, and having only recounted half of her life, she wrapped up her writing with a "to be continued" and handed me her witting.

It took me about a year to revise and proof read, format the text and design a cover in my free time, until finally by next Christmas I was able to surprise her with copies of her printed memoir.

Earlier this year I received a notice from the printing house that informed me that now anyone can find it in Amazon, making my mother the first person in my family to released a book this year.

My mother visited us for a few weeks this summer too, and I saw it with my own eyes: she is nearly done writing her second installment.

Then there is my sister, Magaly. She is the youngest of us three sisters; I am the oldest. But very early Magaly grew taller than me, developed feet larger than mine, swam faster than I could attempt, could hold her breath longer too, and when she began drawing at an early age, everybody I knew, including me, were left in the dust.

So, of course, she has not one but two books published this year:

Here is an excerpt from a review of What Can You do With A Paleta, a book written by Carmen Tafolla:

“The lyrical prose is equally beautiful in both languages. Morales uses broad, curvy brushstrokes of contrasting bright and fruity colors to capture the look of Mexican folk art. The characters’ faces are round with slightly slanted eyes and rendered in golden shades of burnt sienna...this joyful celebration of barrio life is a must-have for children’s collections.”
--School Libray Journal

Magaly's colaboration with Pat Mora resulted in her second nook this year, A Piñata In A Pine Tree.


Here are some words from Kirkus review:

"Mora blends Latino holiday traditions of her native Southwest with some from Mexico. The gifts are ethnic dishes like pastelitos, ornaments like paper lanterns-luminarias-and spinning tops-trompos-and Mexican folk-art-styled figures. Morales's acrylic paintings complement the song, showing, in the background, family members engaged in activities that are revealed on the last page along with the identity of the amiga-a new little sister."

Just like I saw my mother's, I also witnessed these books of my sister develop. While Magaly worked on her illustrations, we constantly talked and looked at what she was creating.
Ever since then, I been trying to make my feet grow, and I have also been practicing holding my breath longer, because, you see, my family is leaving me behind and I don't know what else to do...

For the first time in my life I missed my plane—my plane from SFO to Mexico City. Serenely I saw my flight leave without me. It was O.K. Everything has a reason, even if that reason if for me to learn to read the clock correctly.

Besides Mexico was still there when I arrived twelve hours latter, hot and humid like I remembered. The river was still there too, and so were the cobblestone streets, the stray dogs roaming and howling at night, and my mother with a hose in her hand watering her jungle of a garden.

At the Callejon del Diamante I bought a necklace of giant ojo de venado seeds, eyes of dear seeds traditionally tied on children with red ribbons to prevent the evil eye. I believe I am protected now for a hundred years.

Lalo the jewel maker lives in a three story house with a patio with a jinicuil tree. My friend Meche says the fruit might be delicious but those trees are full of hairy caterpillars, the kind that stings you and would give you a fever. Good thing Lalo spends most of his time inside his studio making silver and wooden jewelry, like the rings he made for my husband Tim and I; two rings made of one same silver band with prehispanic seashells design.

Luis Felipe has long hair down his waist (and so does his wife and their daughter) and he makes Jaranas out of one single piece of wood. As the vocalist and requinto player of the group Los Sonex, he is one of the best musicians in town. His group have just released their first album, there one can hear the song La Bamba being interpreted by the by the vocalist of the Café Tacuba . I wanted to buy the CD and so I looked for it all over town, but everywhere I went the album was sold out. Instead Kelly my son took requinto lessons from Luis Felipe and so, at the end we managed to bring his music home.

Did I bring anything else from Mexico? I made new pants sewing together patterned fabrics in many colors, and I have them here with me now. I brought coconut candy that I have been eating carefully and little by little after dinner. I carried a whole suit case full of jars of hot salsa with almonds. I had Señora Bordadora embroidering flowers on one a dress. Manuela gave me a reboso soft and multicolored like a fiesta. We also brought the strength of the river with its floating dragon flies and its singing rocks. We carried inside us the amazing heat of the ancient Temazcal bath that one takes inside a clay little room shaped like belly, where they bring red-hot burning rocks inside and then seal the doors so that one can feel like bring devoured by the earth.

Along we brought the love of our family with their laughs and their jokes, the food shared for hours and hours, the music at the neighbors house that the whole street can hear, the traffic stuck behind the garbage truck in a narrow street, the tortilla soup at the Green Leave restaurant where people can come in with their dogs, the handmade posters on the street encouraging people to walk more and drive less, the ice-cream cart outside the supermarket, which sells the most delicious helado de mamey ever, and the itching stings of a hundred mosquitoes.

And all of these should last us long enough.