Walking in a Goya wonderland

My family in PR has grown over the years to such a size that buying Christmas gifts for everyone is cost-prohibitive. The kids and my grandparents all get gifts, but the rest of the adults go the Secret Santa route.

I was the only one in the family not in PR for the holidays, but I participated anyway. I drew my cousin Melissa, and sent her a nifty Portland hoodie. My aunt Annie's husband, Tony, drew my name (for the second year in a row!), and this is what he and Annie sent:

Gandules, Coco Lopez, coffee, adobo, oh my! The two plastic containers in the middle are full of such treats as dulce de coco and ajonjolí. Also, please note that even before I took the picture Dave and I tore into the turrón.

There's nothing quite like a care package, full of goodies from home. My grandparents used to send me some every few months; aside from groceries, they also contained bags of pilones, which were a childhood treat but I still love, and magazines such as Vea and TV Guía. It was imperative that I be kept up-to date with the goings-on of Z-list Puerto Rican celebrities. I mean, I'm sarcastic about it, but I have a soft spot for that junk. At one point my grandfather gave me a subscription to Vea, and I always wondered what the mailman thought of these weird Spanish-language magazines with the obligatory cover picture of a shouldn't-be-in-a-bikini-but-yet-there-she-is-in-one starlet. Even silly things like that can really help one feel a little more connected to home, a little more like absence doesn't mean that you forget. As much as I know that I won't become disconnected from home, and would never allow myself to, a care package is kind of like a little bit of reassurance in a box.