I’m going to start with a topic that is fairly easy,  and close to my heart. Abuelas…aka grandmother’s.  I have been blessed in mine.  One could say i had four.  My mom’ s mother,  my daddy’s mother,  my stepdad’s mom, and the kind lady who refused to be anything but grandma brown. 
              To be Frank,  I only remember her kindness and her kitchen.  She was there for my mom and I when i was extremely young. Three years old to six. So some of my first memories were of her. She taught my mom how to cook. I know she died,  but I remember her telling us not to visit her grave. She used to say if we couldn’t visit her in life,  then we weren’t welcome in death. 
                  Grandma Ethel,  my mom’s mother,  was a very complex woman.  One of the strongest I have ever known.  It’s from her I have my love of reading.  She loved me unconditionally.  She was a natural born story teller.  I still repeat some of her stories… she used to work in hospitals as an admission clerk.  Well the ambulance brought in a drunk recovered from an accident.  The staff got him awake,  and he started looking around.  “Where is Bob? ” He asked getting more and more agitated.  The ambulance went back and found Bob. They get them together,  only to have both men start asking for Steve.  So this time before the return to the scene,  the emt’s asked how many there were. Five total men. None were really harmed by the crash,  which wrapped the car around a tree. All were drunk.  Turns out the reason for the crash?  All five were asleep in the back seat at the time. 
          However,  for all that I loved her, she was a stubborn person.  She literally could burn water. She had broken her back three times,  had to have it fused five.  So she was often cranky because she was in so much pain. She crotcheted, knitted,  sewed, did cross stitch and plastic canvas.  She loved old movies and British comedies. She was everything to me. I know i was a disappointment to her, but I never doubted her love for me.
           Grandma Harris,  my daddy’s mom, was old fashioned and strict.  She and I really didn’t get along as well.  She adored my brother and felt I was too misbehaving.  Maybe I was. She was also a strong woman,  raised five kids by herself back when that just wasn’t done. She made doll furniture,  did ceramics,  and made candy. She always kept busy.  There was a piano in her house, and music was a big thing around her.
           Last but nowhere near least,  “Grandma Sis”, my Stepdad’s mom. She was tough,  and I really didn’t get to know her well.  She when I met her was already unwell. Yet she took the time to welcome me into her family,  and gave me a box of books.  She took the time to find out what i was into,  so she could welcome me. She really was an amazing woman.
      Of course not everyone has such abundance.  I also had my great grandma and my momo. I think being surrounded by such wonderfully strong female role-models has helped me to really reach to be strong like them.