mothermade

My life is marked by death. Stickies on the worn pages. Each a misaligned tab to start a chapter Of a life filled with loss. August 16,...

This week, my father’s birthday came and went. Birthdays, as you know, are very difficult for me. My birthday is a fabrication , a lie, a ...

My name reminds me of my heritage. There are palms and beaches. I hear the constant beat of the rhythm of the island. Adobo Pollochon fills ...