I come from the light orange rough house, the long light red brick path with overgrown bushes surrounding it, the slight sway of palm trees and thick air, and the mixed smell of peppery ginger perfume in the upstairs bedroom. I come from the small kitchen with my father holding a spoon in his hand, from the smell of chicken cooking in the oven as the sun sets, the loud R&B music blasting as he sings, and the gentle but annoying words to smile as it catches on. I come from the long dinners of creamy pasta and chicken, from the ink running out on the mottled receipt papers, from the videos of drawings trying to recreate what I saw, and the limited material always wanting something new. I come from the runs with my sister as I laugh at her being left behind, from the walks from school with our heavy backpacks that nearly made us fall, the late nights laughing with my sister in our tall loft beds, and the loud TV watching Gilmore Girls as we get scared of our sleeping parents. I come from the long rides from school, the looks out from the car window onto the busy highway, and from the bags of snacks with nuts and cheese, and from the sound of togetherness as we drive home, living and glowing miraculously under the bold light. Glowing by Celine Dubose ’30 39
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