Aug 2016
My grandmother from Mexico used to use this Jergen’s face cream that she would call “la crema de las tres caritas,” and every time my dad would go visit her from the states she wouldn’t ask him for anything except to bring her one, and he always would. With time, even when he would make surprise visits, he always made sure to take her a tub of her tres caritas.
I ended up meeting my grandmother when I was about nine, ten years of age, and after that I only saw her once more before she passed. I don’t recall much of our encounters, I don’t really remember what her voice sounded like or the words we exchanged. But I remember her embrace, hugging her for the first time and feeling an immense sense of warmth and love in its purest, grounded form. She had womanhood in her arms, an airy sense of strength, tenderness, and compassion even though I was just a child and couldn’t pin down the feeling just then. It was a unique hug and comfort that only a grandmother could give, and it has come to mean more to me now as a young woman that it ever has, now that I understand. The encouragement and reassurance of her hug has remained with me through the calamity, sufferings, and heartaches of my life; just as she intended.
What I do vividly remember is the complexion of her face. A caramel bronzed, subtly creased, pearly glow. Observing this for the first time as a child, I knew the reason why, and it brought me joy. After that, whenever I was at the store and came across the pink lidded Jergen’s it warmed my heart, it still does. I asked my mom if she could buy me one when we were shopping at Walmart once, and from then on I’ve continued buying and using it. It’s been about thirteen years now, and sometimes when I put some on early morning or at night before going to bed, it makes me think of her, oh her glowing face, of her radiating warmth, and in some silly way it makes me feel close to her, like that first and last embrace we shared that I don’t think I’ll ever come to forget.
It kind of blows me away, in retrospect, how simple objects, little things, how everything seamlessly has the potential to intertwine with significance and meaning. All of this means so much to me.
I ended up meeting my grandmother when I was about nine, ten years of age, and after that I only saw her once more before she passed. I don’t recall much of our encounters, I don’t really remember what her voice sounded like or the words we exchanged. But I remember her embrace, hugging her for the first time and feeling an immense sense of warmth and love in its purest, grounded form. She had womanhood in her arms, an airy sense of strength, tenderness, and compassion even though I was just a child and couldn’t pin down the feeling just then. It was a unique hug and comfort that only a grandmother could give, and it has come to mean more to me now as a young woman that it ever has, now that I understand. The encouragement and reassurance of her hug has remained with me through the calamity, sufferings, and heartaches of my life; just as she intended.
What I do vividly remember is the complexion of her face. A caramel bronzed, subtly creased, pearly glow. Observing this for the first time as a child, I knew the reason why, and it brought me joy. After that, whenever I was at the store and came across the pink lidded Jergen’s it warmed my heart, it still does. I asked my mom if she could buy me one when we were shopping at Walmart once, and from then on I’ve continued buying and using it. It’s been about thirteen years now, and sometimes when I put some on early morning or at night before going to bed, it makes me think of her, oh her glowing face, of her radiating warmth, and in some silly way it makes me feel close to her, like that first and last embrace we shared that I don’t think I’ll ever come to forget.
It kind of blows me away, in retrospect, how simple objects, little things, how everything seamlessly has the potential to intertwine with significance and meaning. All of this means so much to me.
