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For many years, my family and I would hear of relatives going to Mexico, and relatives returning. The closest we'd come to being back in our hometown was five feet; watching our loved ones through the TV, thanx to the VCR tapes relatives would bring from Mexico.
As many immigrants can attest to, watching a homevideo, with one's hometown as its setting, is a family affair. The whole family gathers to see how our former neighbors are doing, a thousand miles down south. Someone asks, "who's that?" Another answers, "oh, that's the lady who such and such, and lived so and so." Everyone smiles and indulges in memories.
"No hay mal que dure cien años, ni enfermo que los aguante", points out a popular phrase. Indeed, nothing is everlasting. Today my mother put a VHS tape inside the VCR, and lay down on her bed, as she had done so many times before when watching a homevideo of our hometown. This time was different though. This time there was a perfectly-familiar person on the screen. It was my mother... surrounded by the people she had gotten used to seeing only on TV... the people she left in Mexico over a decade ago... my grandma and our former neighbors.
Welcome home, Señora... I know you had a great time...