You Don’t Have to Pretend You’re Happy When You’re Sad

Here’s what to do instead.

I grabbed the loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of strawberry preserves. I popped two pieces of bread into the toaster and just as they were about to jump out —

“Could you make me one of those?” my Abuelita asked. I turned to find her pulling out a chair, wincing in pain as she did so. I hid the pain I felt every time I saw her and smiled instead.

“Sure.” I took the toast, smeared the spreads, and gave it to her. She picked it up with the arm that wasn’t wrapped in a cast. It was nearly eleven, but she’d already been in bed for a few hours. I wasn’t surprised that she was up.

I put in two more pieces of bread when my aunt walked in. “That looks good,” she said, eyeing my grandma’s sandwich. “Do you think you could make me one, please?”

“Yeah.” At the same time, my five-year-old cousin walked in, and I held back a smile, already knowing what my Abuelita was going to ask me. “Can you make one for her too?”

“Of course,” I said.

I ended up making three more sandwiches before finally getting to paint my own pieces of toast with smooth peanut butter and chunks of strawberry. I sat beside my grandma at the kitchen table. But now it wasn’t just us…