Para. Los. Padres.

I was four years old when my parents split up. I don’t remember crying about it or being terribly sad, but I do remember that life changed a little bit and I would only see my dad every once in a while. Over the course of the next few years, I had a recurring dream... Continue Reading →

My. Pesky. Roommate.

Writer’s block showed up this week like an unexpected visitor that seriously overstayed their welcome. It got me thinking about a time when some “cousins” came to stay with my family back in the 90s. ::insert hard eye roll:: They stayed for what felt like forever. It was the experience that taught me that I... Continue Reading →

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