My great grandfather was a tombstone artist in the family cemetery business.
My other great grandfather was the illegitimate son of a Zapotec and a Spanish noble.
My other great grandfather had wanderlust, a railroad conductor.
The roads they walked on are paved over now, but when I walk down the street, I remember the great grandparents I never met, and wonder what it would be like to have them over for tea and cupcakes. Better yet, all in one room. Would the racial tension cause a stir? Would they embrace? Would they like who I've become?
Of course they would! They'd fight over whose eyes I have, and tell me I take tea with milk because of them, and take credit for my strengths. We'd hold a philosophical debate, but at the end of the day they'd love me no matter what, pinch my cheeks, kiss me twice, and promise never to leave my side.
3:05 p.m. - 2009-10-22