Mother's Day in Miami
Title
Mother's Day in Miami
Creator
Valerie Ramirez
Date
05/08/2022
Text
Miami is a city made up of a blend of many different cultures and values, but most of us take Mother’s Day very seriously. You’ll find the drug stores and strip malls filled to the brim with Mother’s Day advertisements for an assortment of gifts, from a simple card to extravagant jewelry. However, what do many of us do besides get these gifts for our mother’s?
Many mothers worldwide are clear on what they want for Mother’s Day, and my mom is no exception. She wanted what most mother’s say they want: a late wake up, breakfast in bed, a relaxing day, and some gifts. To prep for this, many of us in Miami wake up early on the day of to go get a meal from a Miami mothers’ favorite place: the local Cuban bakery.
My local Cuban bakery is the most reliable spot in the area, open every day no matter the occasion. I got to the bakery at 9:00am or so, hoping I wouldn’t be waiting too long. I was unfortunately wrong in that hope. The line stretched out the door and past the local business on the same side of the street, but they were all closed because of the day’s celebration.
The crowd at the bakery alone was a great view of the different cultures we have in Miami and an even better reminder of how Mother’s Day is valued in Miami. Many people from different races and ethnic backgrounds all stood in line, but I did not see many who were mothers. I saw men and their children getting the required breakfast and pastelitos to satisfy the mothers in their lives. Everyone seemed tired and stressed, especially the poor workers who were running back and forth.
The sense of community is absolutely impressive. The women who were writing down orders would welcome everyone with a hello and receive many happy wishes for a happy mothers day. In return they would recite a memorized order that was likely the standing request and ritual exchange between herself and the customer.
The slow crawl towards the order station was entertaining, you could see all the tired children picking up speed to fight the boredom of the line. They’d run back and forth and play with each other while being courteous enough to avoid running into anyone who was busy. Seeing the children reminds you of the mothers who tirelessly corralled them usually, finally able to take at least a morning off and sleep in.
The unique scent that is truly Miami in a bottle hits the nose the moment you step inside, but finding the root of the scent isn’t easy unless you already know it. It’s the smell of fresh Cuban bread and the squeaky clean floors that have a hint of purple Fabuloso scent wafting up mixing with the pastries and bread to create the unofficially official Miami scent (trademark pending). The taste of the sweet and strong Cuban coffee waiting on the other side of the counter is one you don’t forget and its smell has a slight addition to the scent, not as much as you might expect considering the strength of said coffee.
Finally placing an order and being called sweetheart by the kindhearted woman who has been working at the place since you were a freshman in high school is a feeling akin to pure bliss. The years have changed you, your family, and the city… but the people have the same spirit and openness that keeps our community a family. The smile she gives you is as warm and welcoming as your own mother’s -- who, don’t you forget, is waiting at home ever so patiently for the Cuban coffee you just got hurriedly handed-- and the attention she pays you despite the intense rush she’s going through is just another thing to appreciate about the Cuban bakery experience.
Another thing to appreciate: the price. It's only $15 dollars for a meal for two, plus snacks for later! The value is as evident as the quality, and doubly important to the business. Try raising the price .10 cents to my grandpa, a born and raised Cuban who had to finish his education at the 4th grade to work every day to support his mom and sisters in Cuba, he’ll tell you how in Cuba .10 cents was the difference between a meal for his youngest sister who was sick at the time and her condition worsening.
With a café con leche clarito in hand, now begins the wait for the rest of the food. A man and his kids walk out the door with a bandeja de pastelitos in hand and head towards the man selling flowers on the edge of the shopping center I’m in. After a quick exchange and smiles, the man and his little family head to the car armed with the required pieces to a happy Mother’s Day breakfast with the extended family. I can envision his mom and his wife celebrating with his sister and the plentiful cousins; the most important thing to a family in Miami is exactly that, family.
Once I got the bag of food in hand -- dos croquetas caseras and tostada for me and a desayuno con huevos revueltos y jamon con tostada francesa y queso crema for my mom -- I head out the door. Finally leaving the rush inside to head to the CVS on the other side of the shopping center and quickly grab a card that says “Happy Mother’s Day” with a cute puppy waving hi to the lucky person who opens the card. I can envision my mom’s happy smile and the sound of my dog clicking his little nails on the laminate floor to sniff the air around my mom’s bed to find the wafting smells of tostadas. My mind wanders and I lose the picture of my perfect Miami Mother’s Day ... already dreaming of the future Mother’s Days I’ll celebrate.
I’m moving out of Miami one day. This one day is sooner than I think and sooner than I am ready for. There is nothing I can do to avoid it unless I want to live with my mom for the rest of my life. That isn’t to say my mom isn’t a great housemate, but maybe instead of cleaning the whole house every Sunday, I would prefer to do it on Saturdays. Instead of waking up to the sound of the garage door closing at 7:45am, I would prefer to wake up to the sound of my phone dinging with emails from my professors and the sounds of my roommates getting ready for class, or after some long nights, even just going to bed. Or maybe I just know I need to leave to grow.
Or, consider this, maybe I don’t need to leave and never return? Maybe Miami can be my permanent home where I can contribute to this community in a way I haven’t realized yet. But that’s just not a future I can dream of and expect. Sitting next to my mom in her bed while she watches some novela I haven’t seen before and eating my tostada and chatting with her is enjoyable, but at the forefront of my mind is the knowledge that I won’t be able to stay. At the back of my mind is the knowledge it’s not going to be my choice whether I can make Miami my home because I won’t even be able to afford it. Miami is the least affordable place to live in the U.S. and yet my family is here; my roots are the same as the roots of the palm tree planted outside of my window when I was born, but only one of us is able to stay.
Being pushed out of the only place I’ve ever called home brings me to think about how I’ll be able to get the same Cuban bread and motherly experience in Orlando for the next two years, and then wherever I can afford for the rest of my life. Mother’s Day will never be the same after this one, but that’s a problem for another day. One more bite of tostada before I have to worry again.
Mother’s Day in Miami is a special event I’ll miss for the rest of my life. It will never be the same and none of the people who are familiar characters to me are likely to still be here even if I could stay. Who will hand me the cup of Cuban coffee and ask me about college and remember me from my freshman year of high school?
I hand my mom the card and she smiles as she reads it. I take in the moment with a few tears beginning to come up from the depths of my mind, each one holding the fears and ideas of the future that I am not ready for at the moment. Simply written inside: “I love you mama! Thank you for all you do and all you provide for me, I love you so much!”
My mom is the epitome of Miami to me, she is strong and kind. She has an effortless ability to make me comfortable in the worst situations and is something that will always comfort me. She and Miami are my home. But not for long.
Many mothers worldwide are clear on what they want for Mother’s Day, and my mom is no exception. She wanted what most mother’s say they want: a late wake up, breakfast in bed, a relaxing day, and some gifts. To prep for this, many of us in Miami wake up early on the day of to go get a meal from a Miami mothers’ favorite place: the local Cuban bakery.
My local Cuban bakery is the most reliable spot in the area, open every day no matter the occasion. I got to the bakery at 9:00am or so, hoping I wouldn’t be waiting too long. I was unfortunately wrong in that hope. The line stretched out the door and past the local business on the same side of the street, but they were all closed because of the day’s celebration.
The crowd at the bakery alone was a great view of the different cultures we have in Miami and an even better reminder of how Mother’s Day is valued in Miami. Many people from different races and ethnic backgrounds all stood in line, but I did not see many who were mothers. I saw men and their children getting the required breakfast and pastelitos to satisfy the mothers in their lives. Everyone seemed tired and stressed, especially the poor workers who were running back and forth.
The sense of community is absolutely impressive. The women who were writing down orders would welcome everyone with a hello and receive many happy wishes for a happy mothers day. In return they would recite a memorized order that was likely the standing request and ritual exchange between herself and the customer.
The slow crawl towards the order station was entertaining, you could see all the tired children picking up speed to fight the boredom of the line. They’d run back and forth and play with each other while being courteous enough to avoid running into anyone who was busy. Seeing the children reminds you of the mothers who tirelessly corralled them usually, finally able to take at least a morning off and sleep in.
The unique scent that is truly Miami in a bottle hits the nose the moment you step inside, but finding the root of the scent isn’t easy unless you already know it. It’s the smell of fresh Cuban bread and the squeaky clean floors that have a hint of purple Fabuloso scent wafting up mixing with the pastries and bread to create the unofficially official Miami scent (trademark pending). The taste of the sweet and strong Cuban coffee waiting on the other side of the counter is one you don’t forget and its smell has a slight addition to the scent, not as much as you might expect considering the strength of said coffee.
Finally placing an order and being called sweetheart by the kindhearted woman who has been working at the place since you were a freshman in high school is a feeling akin to pure bliss. The years have changed you, your family, and the city… but the people have the same spirit and openness that keeps our community a family. The smile she gives you is as warm and welcoming as your own mother’s -- who, don’t you forget, is waiting at home ever so patiently for the Cuban coffee you just got hurriedly handed-- and the attention she pays you despite the intense rush she’s going through is just another thing to appreciate about the Cuban bakery experience.
Another thing to appreciate: the price. It's only $15 dollars for a meal for two, plus snacks for later! The value is as evident as the quality, and doubly important to the business. Try raising the price .10 cents to my grandpa, a born and raised Cuban who had to finish his education at the 4th grade to work every day to support his mom and sisters in Cuba, he’ll tell you how in Cuba .10 cents was the difference between a meal for his youngest sister who was sick at the time and her condition worsening.
With a café con leche clarito in hand, now begins the wait for the rest of the food. A man and his kids walk out the door with a bandeja de pastelitos in hand and head towards the man selling flowers on the edge of the shopping center I’m in. After a quick exchange and smiles, the man and his little family head to the car armed with the required pieces to a happy Mother’s Day breakfast with the extended family. I can envision his mom and his wife celebrating with his sister and the plentiful cousins; the most important thing to a family in Miami is exactly that, family.
Once I got the bag of food in hand -- dos croquetas caseras and tostada for me and a desayuno con huevos revueltos y jamon con tostada francesa y queso crema for my mom -- I head out the door. Finally leaving the rush inside to head to the CVS on the other side of the shopping center and quickly grab a card that says “Happy Mother’s Day” with a cute puppy waving hi to the lucky person who opens the card. I can envision my mom’s happy smile and the sound of my dog clicking his little nails on the laminate floor to sniff the air around my mom’s bed to find the wafting smells of tostadas. My mind wanders and I lose the picture of my perfect Miami Mother’s Day ... already dreaming of the future Mother’s Days I’ll celebrate.
I’m moving out of Miami one day. This one day is sooner than I think and sooner than I am ready for. There is nothing I can do to avoid it unless I want to live with my mom for the rest of my life. That isn’t to say my mom isn’t a great housemate, but maybe instead of cleaning the whole house every Sunday, I would prefer to do it on Saturdays. Instead of waking up to the sound of the garage door closing at 7:45am, I would prefer to wake up to the sound of my phone dinging with emails from my professors and the sounds of my roommates getting ready for class, or after some long nights, even just going to bed. Or maybe I just know I need to leave to grow.
Or, consider this, maybe I don’t need to leave and never return? Maybe Miami can be my permanent home where I can contribute to this community in a way I haven’t realized yet. But that’s just not a future I can dream of and expect. Sitting next to my mom in her bed while she watches some novela I haven’t seen before and eating my tostada and chatting with her is enjoyable, but at the forefront of my mind is the knowledge that I won’t be able to stay. At the back of my mind is the knowledge it’s not going to be my choice whether I can make Miami my home because I won’t even be able to afford it. Miami is the least affordable place to live in the U.S. and yet my family is here; my roots are the same as the roots of the palm tree planted outside of my window when I was born, but only one of us is able to stay.
Being pushed out of the only place I’ve ever called home brings me to think about how I’ll be able to get the same Cuban bread and motherly experience in Orlando for the next two years, and then wherever I can afford for the rest of my life. Mother’s Day will never be the same after this one, but that’s a problem for another day. One more bite of tostada before I have to worry again.
Mother’s Day in Miami is a special event I’ll miss for the rest of my life. It will never be the same and none of the people who are familiar characters to me are likely to still be here even if I could stay. Who will hand me the cup of Cuban coffee and ask me about college and remember me from my freshman year of high school?
I hand my mom the card and she smiles as she reads it. I take in the moment with a few tears beginning to come up from the depths of my mind, each one holding the fears and ideas of the future that I am not ready for at the moment. Simply written inside: “I love you mama! Thank you for all you do and all you provide for me, I love you so much!”
My mom is the epitome of Miami to me, she is strong and kind. She has an effortless ability to make me comfortable in the worst situations and is something that will always comfort me. She and Miami are my home. But not for long.
Collection
Citation
Valerie Ramirez, “Mother's Day in Miami,” Everything Speaks To Me , accessed September 18, 2026, https://everythingspeakstome.com/items/show/77.