It’s Christmas Eve at Los Abuelos’ house. Tio Danny is in town, as we carry on our family tradition. Abuela pulls out the tapas and the room fills with a crisp doughy scent. Colorful tinsel on the Christmas tree glistens and spills over the elegantly wrapped presents. A rich, savory aroma escapes the stovetop as the juice from the chicken and beef sputters.  

“¡Está listo Gabriela!” Abuela calls to me.  

I hurry and claim my space at the leftmost corner of the island counter. Taking a tapa, I fill it with just the right amount of filling. My mom hands me a fork as I fold the edges together. I press the fork prongs into the folded dough–then I move the completed empanada onto the shiny aluminum tray. The empanadas get lathered in egg yolk and put in the oven. While the empanadas cook, Abuela brings out Pictionary and we sit down to play.  

“¡Tres, dos, uno, vamos!” Abuelo counts down.

The timer flips–I stare intensely at my mother drawing, trying to make it out before my brothers do. Tension in the room grows, legs anxiously twitch, eyes widen– bam! My brother falls off his chair. And at once, we roar with laughter. Slap-happy after working hard on the empanadas, this amuses us. This laughter continues. In this moment, we are connected.

Beep–beep–beep, the oven sings.

Abuelo leaves into the kitchen and comes back bearing dinner. Love radiates through the room. As smiles fill with passion, we eat the empanadas.

In this moment, sitting with my family, I feel closer than ever. On Christmas Eve, at Los Abuelos’ house, tradition brings us together.