My nieces tiny hands love to make their way around my face, neck and décolletage so she can try to pull my moles off. Sometime she tricks me into lifting her up, thinking she wants hugs – to then be quickly attacked. This is a habit her brother has caught on to quickly. I had never been more aware of how many moles I had until those two were born. They don’t have moles, so they’re fascinated by mine. One in particular on my clavical; my niece is relentless with. Mole is such an ugly word, in Spanish they’re called “lunares.”

One of the many words I find far more beautiful in Spanish than in English.

I have memories of singing a famous Mexican love song with my grandparents as a child about a “lunar” next to a lovers lips. I sang parts of this song to my niece when she was a baby, and when I sing it now she smiles with a recognizing look, but refuses to sing along to even the very easy part of the chorus.

So thankful for my niece and nephew turning the dots on my body into a reminder of love love love.


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