Author

Michelle Rita

Browsing

Writing about homesickness is like having heart surgery. It’s evasive. My heart is inside a snow globe, on the highest shelf in my room. Usually, the sun illuminates this glass ball, but on the days I shake it the snow falls and I lose myself. It gets cold, dark and…

This body, where I, live is my favorite place. Today I accept it and I don’t wish another, but it wasn’t always like this. Since I was born my big eyes were always the focus of attention. Impossible not to notice them. When I was fifteen, I discovered black eyeliner…

Aurora and I celebrated ten years of friendship, we had the perfect excuse to go out. (I was the mastermind because she didn’t remember our special day).  I opened the door of my nest of madness. She was down and stressed:  ” I need your energy today.”  ” That and a bottle of wine?” I smiled and hugged her.  We headed…

– “They’ll call her Carolina.” I hugged that belly from when I knew you were living in there. They didn’t ask my opinion when they choose your name, but if they had I would probably suggested Mulan, Ariel or another Disney princess name. I was just a seven-year-old girl. When…

– Girls! Come set the table! – My parents and grandparents shouted, in distant pasts. There were six of us gathering around the table. Then seven. Again six. And then five, because I left. I remember rolling my eyes when they yelled my name, always interrupting something extremely useless, but vital…

It was a quiet beach day in the Caribbean. The sea was still, seemingly harmless, despite the red flag placed further away from us. Van and I were resting in the shade of a palm tree, hidden from the sun that craved to burn our skin: – “Ayuda! Ayuda!” -…

This was a happy day, I thought. She was acting weird. Weird like when you’re hanging with a cheerful group and everyone is having fun except your friend. You’re embarrassed. She was that friend all day. Come to think of it, the day was not happy for her at all.…