The reunion with his mother's cousin, a woman named Sofia, was a deeply emotional experience. Sofia was a small, stooped woman with kind eyes and a warm, gentle smile. She had been his mother's closest friend, her confidante, her partner in crime. And as she looked at Mateo, she saw not a football superstar, but the son of the girl she had loved like a sister.
She welcomed them into her small, humble home, a place filled with the scent of old books, dried flowers, and a lifetime of memories. She served them coffee and pastries, and she talked, for hours on end, about Mateo's mother.
She told them about her infectious laughter, her mischievous spirit, her fierce loyalty. She told them about her love for art, for music, for life. And she told them about her dreams, her hopes, her unwavering belief in the goodness of people.
