When I think of home everyone in the family comes to mind even those that had been long gone and the most recent additions. Memories of childhood flashes back. The weekend visits to the Ancestral home to partake in a sumptuous lunch prepared by the ladies of the family and great grandpa’s ritual of asking me to read him his Spanish newspaper. There was abundance of homemade sweets made from sticky rice with coconut milk and brown sugar, fried bananas and assorted local grown fruits among many other goodies. We have a big family and when we have parties it seems that half of the town was in attendance. Cousins by the dozen which made it fun and something to look forward to for me and my three siblings. My feet has taken me to foreign shores but home is never far regardless of the distance. It is my roots, my anchor and constant reminder that when the going gets tough, there’s always home.