Rooted in Sundays Constantino Peña ’26 Every Sunday, we gather again, plates clinking, voices laughing, a symphony of Spanish and English, chairs pulled closer until no one feels far. Parents, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, Four grandparents recently turned to three. One chair now stays empty, A quiet reminder of my grandfather. No one rushes to leave, These dinners hold us in place, help us reset. Week after week, we return, to food, to family, to remembering, to love that keeps us rooted at the table. 11 Havana at Night Noa Garcia ’27
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