Beans and rice were always on the menu. Grandma’s homemade tortillas were served for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was always amazed by how many different dishes you could make with just a tortilla. Although we usually ate as a family at home, after Sunday mass we would meet up at our favorite taqueria for breakfast. Waking up Sunday mornings for church and breakfast were always great memories. When I was younger, we would go to church and sit with my grandmother and parents in the pews. Sometimes it felt as if we lived at the church with the amount of volunteer hours we did. The women of my family are members of the Catholic Daughters of America. In this organization, they perform volunteer services and fundraising for the church and senior students. Even though my siblings and I are not part of this organization, we participate much of our time towards helping them in their endeavors. I understand that being Hispanic is not just about the food, dances, and language. When you look into the eyes of your relatives and listen to the stories of their childhood, or watch them share jokes with your parents, you can see the culture in their eyes. The taste of heritage in every meal passed down from mother to daughter generation after generation. There is so much more to tell about family, faith, and ancestry that cannot be described but