> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.svlatino.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Sazón, Familia y Amor: The Flavors of Home - URL: https://www.svlatino.com/blogs/raices/sazon-familia-y-amor-the-flavors-of-home/ - Published: 2026-09-30T16:30:24.000Z - Updated: 2026-09-30T17:45:36.000Z - Description: Our Home series continues this Hispanic Heritage Month. Today’s essay comes from Angela Flores Robertson, Service Delivery Leader at Palo Alto Networks. - Author: Angela Flores Robertson - Tags: Raíces — Our Story, Our Narrative Your browser does not support the audio element. ### **Publisher’s Note** Our Home series continues this Hispanic Heritage Month. We asked our Advisory Board, our guest writers, and our own team one question: what does “home” mean to you? Today’s essay comes from Angela Flores Robertson, Service Delivery Leader at Palo Alto Networks. --- *By Angela Flores Robertson* When I think of home, I first remember the smell—tortillas warming on the stove, frijoles simmering in a pot, carne asada cooking outside, and pan dulce waiting for later. At my abuela’s house on Bahama Way in East San José, there might be tamales, enchiladas, pozole, mole con arroz, chile verde, or carnitas. There was always plenty of food, but what I remember most is that there was always enough for one more person. Vicente Fernández or Los Bukis played while my tías filled the kitchen with laughter and overlapping conversations. We children ran in and out of the house until someone called, “¡Ya está la comida!” Then we all rushed toward the table. Doña Natty reminded us to be *buenos niños.* She taught Sunday school and tried to keep us on our best behavior. My Tío Santiago had a different approach. When we became too loud, he would yell, “¡Apláquense o el Cucuy te va a agarrar!” Almost every adult in the neighborhood became a *Tía* or *Tío,* whether we were related by blood or not. They could feed us, correct us, protect us, and tell our parents when we had done something wrong. We belonged not only to our immediate families but to an entire community that helped raise us. My abuela always kept her *libro de oraciones.* She wrote down the names of people who were sick, struggling, looking for work, or simply needed a little extra hope. If one of my tíos needed a job, she gave him her bendición and lit a candle for him. She also kept a list of elders in the neighborhood who needed food, medicinas, a ride to the doctor, or help with paperwork. Don Víctor was one of those elders. We children regularly took food to his house. If he was having a good day, we pushed him in his wheelchair so he could join the carne asada and listen to the music. He was not related to us by blood, but he was family. He belonged with us, so we found a way to bring him in. Everyone was welcome at my abuela’s house—La Señora Pico, families who had lived in the neighborhood for years, and the family down the street who had recently migrated from Somalia. It did not matter where someone was born, which language they spoke, or how long they had lived on our street. If there was food, music, and room to pull up another chair, they were invited. That was how I first learned what *comunidad* meant. Home was not simply a house. Home was noticing who was missing, going to find them, and making sure they still had a place at the table. Home was not always easy. My parents, Felipe and Estrella, worked multiple jobs, and our family cleaned offices at night. I began helping when I was a little girl. At the time, I did not understand everything my parents were carrying. Today, I understand the exhaustion, sacrifice, and love behind those nights. Those offices became part of home, too, because home was wherever my family was working, sacrificing, and holding on to hope together. My family’s roots reach back to Zacatecas, Mexico. Our story stretches across the borderlands to Del Rio and Terlingua, Texas, and then to East San José. I do not have to choose between where my family comes from and the life I have today. I carry Zacatecas, Texas, and East San José with me. I keep my cultura alive through our food, music, language, stories, and the way I treat people. I was raised to notice who had not eaten, who was sitting alone, and who might need help but did not know how to ask. That is what I try to bring into every space I enter. To younger Latinos and Latinas, I would say: Listen to the stories being told around your kitchen table. Ask your parents and grandparents about their lives. Sit with your tías, even when they tell the same story for the tenth time. Never believe you must hide your name, your accent, your family, or your cultura to belong. And when you reach a place your family once dreamed about, make room for someone coming behind you. *La primera, pero no la última.* If I could describe home in one phrase, it would be: **“Ven, mija, siéntate. Come sit with us.”** Home is someone pulling out another chair. It is a plate being placed in front of you before you have to say you are hungry. It is hearing music from the kitchen and knowing there is a place for you at the table. That feeling matters deeply today, when so many people in our comunidad are being asked to prove that they belong. Our stories are proof enough. Our families’ labor, sacrifices, and love matter. The communities we have built matter. We are here. We are seen. And we belong. --- If this story reminded you of your own home, share it. And stay with us, more voices in this series are coming all month. **More from the Home series** [Two Flags, One Home](https://www.svlatino.com/blogs/raices/two-flags-one-home/) by Eddie García [Where Home Really Is](https://www.svlatino.com/blogs/raices/where-home-really-is/) by Nancy Marmolejo [What Home Means to Me](https://www.svlatino.com/blogs/raices/what-home-means-to-me/) by Francisco Jiménez [Home, In Their Own Words](https://www.svlatino.com/blogs/art-culture/home-in-their-own-words/) by SVL Advisory Board [From Where We Started to Where We’re Going](https://www.svlatino.com/blogs/raices/from-where-we-started-to-where-were-going/) by Michael Archuleta **Stories like this don’t tell themselves.** SVL has spent over a decade making the invisible visible, celebrating Latino excellence, naming hard truths, and calling our comunidad to action. Independent Latino journalism only survives when the community it serves decides it’s worth protecting. There are two ways to stand with us: Are you a Latino professional, entrepreneur, or leader ready to be celebrated? Become a Cultura Ambassador, SVL’s official community membership for Latino leaders who are ready to have their story told, their work amplified, and their excellence made visible. [Become a Cultura Ambassador →](https://www.svlatino.com/#/portal/signup/6a8db2d43e7c840008178b04/yearly) Want to support our mission? Become an Amigo de SVL. Your support keeps our journalism independent, our stories free, and our #CreoEnTi programs and community events alive. [Become an Amigo de SVL →](https://www.svlatino.com/#/portal/signup/6a8e00f723b28c0001855fa0/monthly) ***Juntos Adelante. Because silence is complicity. And so is inaction.*** #WeAreSVL | #JuntosAdelante | #CreoEnNosotros | #SVLVoices | #Raíces | #HispanicHeritage365