Jessica Mendoza, staff writer
You told me about Ecuador, its preference for salty foods, indigenous roots and the place your siblings have built their lives.
You asked if I said popote or pajilla and if I knew that hueco had more than one meaning.
You listened to my frustrated processing of speakers, why was he Machista? Why didn’t he listen?
You sang La Makina, Galy Galiano and Reik over and over not caring about our bad singing or everyone else’s polite silence and side glances.
You stayed by me hanging on my arm, hopping onto Tuc Tuc’s, studying at Cafe Te Quiero.
You laughed randomly, cried sincerely,
We sat on the roof as the night hid our red puffy faces.
I knew you understood.
Jessica Mendoza is a senior double majoring in English and Sociology. She mostly journals but has recently begun writing poetry.