It’s a quiet street that Maria’s brought me to, an unassuming American suburb. The house she just parked in front of looks like it should host a small middle-class family—I can imagine a couple of brown-eyed kids playing tag in the backyard under the watch of their careworn parents—but it turns out this blue-painted house with its cream shutters and neatly manicured lawn belongs to the supposedly ...

Shrieks, laughter, occasional crying. Small armies of tiny people brimming with energy, kicking wood chips into the air in their wake, picnic-bound. Babysitters and ice cream. And, in the midst of it all, a single mother intently observing her only child at various modes of play.

Nowadays, not many young women—especially young women with staggering heartache, more than one job, many bills, and a ...

It’s so familiar, but I never really look at it to observe that fact. It’s dark; so full of words that they overlapped again and again until they formed a leaden shape invisible against the black sky and mirages of city structures it calls home. It’s feared by many; by the many who only notice it as a trick of the light, by the many who are afraid to be alone, by the many who are afraid of being i...

While she dodges bullets that hate her flag,

I’m wondering, is this what makes me a man?

To quiver in fear when I hear the phone

While my woman fights, all on her own?

To live day by day without taking charge

Of the courage and daring that first won her heart?

My war has ended and I’ve been discharged

But she remains out there defending her stars

And all I can do is anticipate her scars.

I know t...

“I think I just met the happiest person in the world!”

Dave looks like a sparkling fountain of emotion; shining eyes, huge smile, and practically bouncing on his heels.

I smile and sigh, turning my chair away from my laptop to show I’m listening. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Dave affirms. “And she’s a girl.”

A flood of little siblings suddenly pour out of other rooms, nearly drowning my cousin and I. ...

Mom is still on the phone, biting her nails as she listens with worry. Only earlier today was she telling him to man up and go to work. Now, I’m sure she’s wishing she never pushed him into that job in the first place.

“Sixteen is old enough,” I remember her saying. “If you don’t carry your own weight you’ll be hungry and homeless, I assure you, I will not hold with a son who is not a team playe...