In her hands were 10,000 yesterdays.

My Broken Language: A Theater Jawn (A play based on the memoir)

By Quiara Alegría Hudes

I loved everything about this lyrical coming-of-age tribute to childhood, memory, and the women Quiara grew up with and loved. I zipped through this in a day a few weeks ago. But in the spring of 2024, I saw Quiara and a cast read an excerpt at The Center for Fiction. And afterwards, instead of doing a traditional Q&A as planned, she changed her mind and led a manifestation healing ceremony with her bruja plant, descendant of the one from her grandfather's farm in Puerto Rico. Anyone who wanted to participate got in line and pulled a leaf from the perennial succulent themselves. Though the plant is known to be resilient mine, never grew into something more (though it tried for weeks!)—and I still think about that 'failure' a lot. What it means.

Anyway. Loved it. Loved the recommended song choices (including one below) that enhanced my reading. Short, fierce, soulful, devastating, true. 

"In her hands were 10,000 yesterdays." - From Abuela's rice recipe

(p. 33)

"Those books were definitive experiences. Their impact on me felt unquantifiable yet real as Abuela's palm cupping dry rice. They were recipes for my life's inner feast."

(p. 38)