My mom's mother is a difficult woman.
She curses like a sailor.
Smokes like there's no tomorrow.
Is unapologetically blunt.
Holds lifelong grudges.
However, from the moment I was born my grandma and I formed a bond. One that no matter how frustrated I am by some of her actions, cannot be broken.
A few of the most cherished memories I have of her are the mornings she would take me along for her daily grocery shopping. I would sit in the front of her Chevy Caprice's elbow rest* with my face plastered to the AC vents seeking to escape the Sonoran summer heat. The moment we walked into the store she would pluck an ice cold juice, pop the lid and tell me to drink up. This juice would later be accompanied by a bag of chips. Not the healthiest of snacks but I look at a hot pink bag of Churrumais and instantly think of her.
I also remember her daily siesta. She would lie down somewhere late in the afternoon and allow me to quietly watch the latest novela as she slept. The moment she opened her eyes (about a novela or two later), she would kiss me on my head and ask if I was hungry. In that order, every time.
Today, she's no longer physically able to run around whenever we come to visit but every time I walk out of the guest room rubbing sleep from my eyes, the first person I spot is her. Smoking her cigarette, drinking her coffee and the big smile on her face asking me if I'm hungry.
The best part of having the wedding in Mexico is finally having the chance for Fran to meet all the wonderful people in my life. The people I have talked about and regaled him with stories for as long as we've been together. And just as exciting is the fact that those same people will finally have the chance to meet the man I am going to share my life with. Luckily, my grandma is already smitten with Fran's good looks. Now all he has to do is grin when she curses up a storm at how much cuter he is in person.
*defintely not recommended by vehicular laws these days