The constant hum of the fan weaves with the dramatic gongs of the most recent telenovela my grandmother is watching. The carcass of a mosquito, bloated with my blood, lies over the edge of the bed. My own stomach is bloated from the remnants of my grandmother’s birthday dinner a couple hours ago. It’s a peaceful, quiet existence and I reflect on the waves of nostalgia that come every time I visit my family in Mexico. Nostalgia for the life... Read more