In Their Own Words: Trinity Morales

Growing up in a Mexican household, I was raised in a culture where family is everything. Our bond wasn’t just close, it was the foundation of who we are. When I was younger my siblings and I were always there to support each other at every athletic and academic event. As we got older and started traveling more for soccer, family time became harder to find. Still, we remained a tight-knit family, staying connected through the traditions we shared - especially the meals around the table. Even during our busiest weeks, we always made time to come together for one meal which was usually dinner. To me, dinner wasn’t just a meal, it was a celebration of my culture and the sense of togetherness it created. The kitchen was always filled with the comforting smell of homemade Mexican food and the sounds of conversation echoed in my house as my mom cooked.

During Christmas breaks, those traditions came alive even more. Visiting my extended family in New Mexico meant days filled with food, family, and celebration. The tradition of sharing meals around the table was not just for dinner, it was every meal during these breaks. The day before Christmas Eve my grandma would stay up all night preparing menudo so we could all enjoy it together for breakfast the next morning. Her home became a gathering place for everyone: family, friends, and even neighbors. After breakfast, I would help my grandpa make arroz con leche, one of my favorite winter desserts. Later in the day, we’d head to my aunt’s house, where much of my extended family gathered to make tamales. If you weren’t making tamales you were hanging out with cousins, nieces, nephews, or grandparents. When the tamales were finally ready, we all sat down to share the meal, and with each bite I felt grounded and connected to my family.   

Leaving home for college was the first time I truly understood what those moments meant. I was the first child to go out of state, and being away from such a close family was hard. Even though I would call my family every week the homesickness wouldn’t go away. Sometimes I just craved not only the food my family would make but everything else that came with it: the noise in the kitchen, the smell of my mom’s cooking, the comfort of being surrounded by the people who knew me best. 

Living in the dorms and then later living in an apartment it was hard to recreate the meals my mom made us growing up. Every time my family came into town the first thing I would ask for was a home cooked meal. Even though I was not home everything was still the same. My mom would cook my favorite food, red enchiladas, and everyone would be in my apartment kitchen talking and catching up. Every meal I have is a reminder that food in my culture is more than something we eat, it is how we stay connected, how we express love, and how we carry our heritage wherever we go.