True Florida Stories
I remember asking my mom once, “Why didn’t you put the eñe in my paperwork?”
There was an invisible little squiggle over the n in my last name. It signified that the Peña was pronounced pen-ya, not pen-a. While most of my classmates grew up knowing and never questioning their names, I didn’t fully understand mine until I was ten … Read moreValió la peña
The metamorphosis begins with a glue stick tube straight to the eyebrows. Then, three shades of foundation are painted over every pore … Read moreIn the spotlight
It was a sunny February day when my family began to open Christmas presents. The Christmas tree became a plain tree, then became a Valentine’s Day tree. My mom couldn’t stand to take it down before my dad got to see it, so she redecorated as the weeks passed to have something to do with her stricken hands as the months trudged on … Read moreTransplant
I rolled down our car’s window and extended my gloved hand. Another gloved hand gave me a high school diploma, and a muffled voice congratulated me. My mom drove out of the bus loop where our graduation ceremony was hosted in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic lockdown. The brown brick buildings that housed the final years of my adolescence shrunk in the rear view mirror for the last time. Ahead of me: the real world … Read moreA love letter to odd jobs
A grizzled man smoking a cigarette in his Confederate flag adorned pickup truck was the first time I saw a Florida stereotype in the flesh … Read moreWarming up