Piping Hot Tortillas

One winter, long ago, my Tia Lucia, came to visit us in Long Beach all the way from Salt Lake City. She kicked me and the rest us out of the kitchen while she was making her tortillas. She wanted to spend time talking with her sister, my mother.

My cousins and I were going to go to the movies and I didn't want to miss out of eating fresh, hot tortillas. I walked into the kitchen and gave Tia Lucia my best puppy dog face I could muster. She looked beyond me to make sure no one was watching. I swear her eyes twinkled with sweetness and a hint of mischief. She motioned with her hand for me to follow her. She walked to the stove and whirled around so fast that I barely noticed that she had lifted my shirt and plastered a piping hot tortilla on my stomach. She grabbed my shoulders, turned me around and pushed me out of the kitchen. I felt special and loved.

I ran outside and got into the car with Denise and my cousins. I started the car and moved it away from the curb. The tortilla was burning my stomach. I reached under my shirt and pulled out the tortilla. The aroma was wonderful. I worried that everyone would smell it. 

And then laughter broke out in the car as each of us pulled out a piping hot tortilla from under our shirts. We all realized that Tia Lucia and made each of us feel as if we were THE ”special” one. She had put a hot tortilla under each of our shirts so stealthily that none of us realized that anyone else got a tortilla.