I hadn't seen my grandfather in 22 years. When I finally returned to the Dominican Republic, his first question broke me.

It took the author 22 years to be able to afford to visit his grandfather again. Courtesy of the author

When I was 12, my mother sent my brother, Pedro, and me to the Dominican Republic for three months to stay at my grandfather's home. I think she needed a break from raising two boys in the Bronx alone and wanted us to spend time with her father. Pedro and I were thrilled to share the Spanish language we'd inherited from our family. My grandfather was waiting for us in his beat-up 91 Nissan pickup truck. Every bump felt like the wheels would fly off.

It took me 22 years to go back to visit, and everything had changed.

He had us working the land

The green pasture and mountains of Santiago were a world apart from the 6-floor walk in New York. Here we slept in a bed with a mosquito net and heard the rooster and hens all night.…