📓 Monday, December 22, 2025 — 11:27 a.m.
Alameda Swap Meet is yellow.
It makes me think of the yellow brick road.
And today that road hit me.
There used to be a woman here—Doña Tere.
She was short, maybe 5’1”. Brown eyes. Brown skin. Dark hair. Round face. But what I remember most is this:
Her eyes smiled before her mouth did.
Every time she saw me, she embraced me like she meant it. Not the fake kind. The real kind—like you’re somebody worth holding onto for a second.
She’d tell me:
“Te quiero mucho, mijo. Échale ganas. Porque sabes que te quiero.”
And it wasn’t a phrase. It was a truth.
Sometimes I’d tell her I was sad. Sometimes I’d show up carrying my own weight. And she had this way of cheering me up without fixing me—just by reminding me I wasn’t invisible.
She was battling cancer for a year. I could see she wasn’t doing well. When she started losing weight, I hugged her even harder. Every time I saw her, I hugged her. Every time.
I hadn’t seen her for a while. A month or so. I didn’t want to ask. Part of me already knew.
But today I asked.
They told me she passed away on October 29.
And I’m not gonna lie—it hurts.
Because good people like that… they don’t just “exist.” They leave warmth behind them. They leave a mark.
So this is me saying it out loud:
Gracias, Doña Tere. Te quiero mucho.
Plástico man keeps walking.
⸻
Reader question: Who’s one person—outside your family—who showed you real kindness when you needed it most?
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