I remember on our last night, this small child I played with yesterday gently tapped my shoulder and asked in Spanish, "Chinita, are we playing again later?" Smiling back, "Sorry, we are going to leave tonight" He looked at me pouty faced like he knew despair. i'm sorry kid, for coming and playing with you like I wasn't going to leave

I wish I was seven year old. I wish I was home, pouring tea for my grandpa. I wish I could've told my grandma I loved her. I wish I had treated her better. I miss those bruises on my legs, that bowl cut. I miss running around in the sun. I miss playing in the dirt until it got dark and cold.  I miss my mom and I miss my dad. I miss everyone I love in Chicago. I miss sitting in my dad's car. I miss putting bubble suds on flipped over cups at Ho Luck. I miss it