I just got back from coffee with a stranger; I’m still not sure his name, but we’re getting a drink this weekend. We met two months ago in the basement of a jazz club. I heard him speaking English as we passed each other on the stairs, so I said hey. Turns out, he recently …
Tag Archives: moving
The Other Me
The only reason I am not Jake Duran today – my abuela. Abuela has the youth of a college freshman and the patience of a Saint. But dear lord, she can not make a ‘J’ sound to save her life. My parents came to her with their unborn son’s new name. Beaming and waving at …
A Fresh Sip 