“Abuelito, why do you have hair on your face?”
“¿Qué? ¿Esto? It’s my mustache mija.”
“Oh well when you kiss me sometimes it…”
“What? Oh does it smell like oranges? Sorry I had some this morning.”
“No, when you kiss me sometimes it…”
“Burns? Sorry my aftershave gets caught in it. I’ll make sure to wash my face.”
“No, when you kiss me sometimes it…”
“Oh! Leaves crumbs on your cheek. Sorry I had vanilla wafers with my coffee this morning.”
“No, when you kiss me sometimes it…”
“Oh I know it leaves some red marks. Sorry I kissed your grandma, her lipstick got stuck in my mustache.”
“NO! When you kiss me sometimes, it hurts.”
“¿Qué?”
“Yeah. It’s itchy and leaves red scratches on my cheek. Yes sometimes it smells like oranges, and I have crumbles from your wafers on my cheek. But it hurts to kiss you, abuelito.”
“Aye mi niña, why didn’t you tell me? I will shave it off for you.”
“You will?”
“Of course. But you know it grows back fast, and I’m old now. I can’t sit in front of the mirror for too long or my back will hurt.”
“Oh.”
“I know it’s itchy. It itches me to sometimes, or smells like toothpaste all day, but your grandma likes it on me.”
“Really? So you suffer for her?”
“Aye mi niña, that’s what love is. You win some; you lose some. But at the end of the day you have each other.”
“Okay. You can keep your mustache and give me itchy kisses and I’ll…stop eating lollipops.”
“Ay mi niña haha. Deal. Te quiero mucho.” ▲
