Friyay.

When I was growing up in Houston, my family lived in a tiny house. It had two bedrooms, one small bathroom, a kitchen that would make you appreciate the one in a New York apartment, a dining room that tripled as a library and office, and a living room/the entrance of the house. Close quarters meant you could hear everything, which was problematic for me when I was trying to do something sneaky like eat candy in the pantry.

On Fridays my mom would come home from work, and we'd wait for my dad to get there as well so we could order pizza from our all-time favorite, Star Pizza. We'd eat camp style (not at the table) and wind down from the week. Since there was no television to watch, my brother and I had to entertain ourselves by either playing, doing arts and crafts, or reading. But my mom and dad, they had their own fun. They'd crank Celia Cruz, Gloria Estefan, The Gypsy Kings, Tito Puente, and dance it on out in the living room. And man, those smiles and that energy. There was nowhere in the house to hide from the music, but we never wanted to.

My parents have a much, much bigger house now. There are four bedrooms. Three bathrooms. Two floors. A kitchen that is big enough to have a breakfast table in it. A dining room that is just a dining room. A library and a study, and a living room. With a television. That they use to stream Celia Cruz, Gloria Estefan, The Gypsy Kings, and Tito Puente from the Internet.

Zara top and sandals

Club Monaco velvet pants

J. Crew headband

Childhood belt