Thanksgiving has always made me feel like an outsider, a foreigner enjoying somebody else's holiday. Having grown in Mexico, my Mother made a turkey for my dad's birthday (which happens on or around Turkey Day), but it was always accompanied with tamales and tequila. My Mother would let us skip school, and we used a large parabolic-dish antenna to try to catch a bit of the Macy's parade. As I watched a humongous Snoopy float over 5th Avenue, I felt quite special to have such a cool, internationally saavy mum, quite frankly. When I moved to the USA at age 20, my first Thanksgiving was lonely. My College counselor invited me to her home, knowing I had no family here. The next few years I had e
And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.