Get Out

Get Out

He came unexpectedly, unannounced, and late in the day. My tio Pablo, one of the prodigal sons, welcomed home always with fanfare and celebration, his years living out of state rendering him special and exotic compared to the likes of Tia Margarita who we visited every week.

We were living with Grandpa then, me and my two little brothers and mom, after the divorce. Us three kids shared a room, beds shoved up against one another, a stew of blankets and stuffed animals on the floor, clothes and toys and school projects in every crevice. Continue Reading…