But it also reminded her of what remained.

Marco and Paolo.

If there was one thing that never faded in that house, it was their dreams.

THE MOTHER WHO LET GO OF EVERYTHING

At four each morning, Teresa was already awake.

She prepared tamales, stirred atole, arranged sweet bread in plastic containers, and carried everything to the neighborhood market. Steam from the atole fogged her glasses. The comal burned her hands. Her feet swelled by noon.

She never complained.

“Oaxacan tamales! Fresh and hot!” she called out with a warmth that disguised exhaustion.

Some days she returned home having sold almost everything. Other days she came back with leftovers — but always with something for her sons to eat before school.

On nights when the electricity was cut for late payments, Marco and Paolo studied by candlelight.