Childhood Twice Over

What is more baby brother than a shy knock on my bedroom door? What is more baby brother than his body flopping onto my bed, keeping his feet in the air so that they don’t touch the pillows. I remember the summer we changed our names and begged dad for guinea pigs. The summer I [...]

Remembering Abuela

Marian Veronica Moran How appropriate it was to walk into my grandmother's house on a Saturday afternoon to the radio playing Ave Maria in the living room. It was a few minutes past two o'clock. Warm, natural light filled the living room as I sat cross-legged on the rug, shuffling through images of my great-grandmother, [...]

Airport Heaven

I use to fall asleep mid prayer, trusting that a guardian angel would conclude  the list of things I am grateful for.   I use to fall asleep mid prayer, otherwise, I could not sleep. I was told to thank God for the things I do not want to wake up without.   Waking up [...]


I. Back and forth we went, trying to remember the word for words  that sound the same but are spelled differently. A word from our youths when we were taught this  phenomenon in a classroom.    It was childish for us to be leaning back, arms crossed, looking at each other. As if the word [...]

Herself in Numbers

I’m learning to count behind the numbers where Quantity keeps an inventory of all the ages you’ve been.  You’ve been three, four, eighteen and twelve. Thirty four, nineteen, seven.  You’ve been behind the numbers without knowing it. Like a slow reader trying to keep up with his classmates. You are here. They are there. And [...]

The Description of Details

I think about all the melted chocolate, all the stained purses.  I think about the intricacies of naming. Calling it something.  Call it dark or white or milk. Call it almond and honey. Traces of coconut.  Call it pinched in sea salt.  I think about use. I think about naive pillows, not knowing the weight [...]

Pollen in June

Pollen in June is summer’s snow, sticking to my sweat.   Pollen in June is a gentle snowstorm  coating the swings, the strollers, and slides.   The playground is full of mothers and their children, wearing bright cotton t-shirts and shorts, wearing sunglasses to watch the kids, wearing pollen in their hair.   A father [...]

Softened Butter

I tilt my head to look more into his eyes, I like how tilting is more, it’s the most I know. I am twenty. I know how to tilt into eyes, I know how to remember when I want to: the younger sisters of October, a middle name, a maiden name, a stepfather. I like [...]

Of Morning

I cannot decipher the smell of my skin from the bedsheets. Or is it just the scent of morning? The smell of a Thursday morning, what does it want from us? What does Thursday morning smell like to children? In Mom’s house? Dad’s house? What does it want?