When I first moved to Rhode Island from Pennsylvania, I lived in a big house with most of my family on my mom’s side. Those who weren’t there were in the Dominican Republic. Inside was filled with 4 families, around 14 people. You walk in and you could feel the warmth of all the hearts radiate the house. My family has always been very hospitable, very accepting of anyone who were to knock on the door. The house always smelt of some sort of food. “Cuidado! La estufa esta prendida con las habichuelas”. The smell of cream of wheat in the morning or rice and beans at night is what made you feel at home.

I remember always playing outside and taking advantage of the warm weather when I could. I’d always spend time with the kids that my aunts would babysit. Those were who I considered my friends. On a hot sunny day, I remember having extra chocolates from Olive Garden, you know, the ones you get with your check. My friend and I pondered what to do with these melted chocolates. I remembered hearing that if you ate watermelon seeds, one would grow in your stomach, so I thought we would plant the chocolate. We dug a small hole between two trees, opened the wrapper, and let the gooey chocolate slide out. We put the dirt back where it was, and because my friend wasn’t coming back the next day, the next morning I took a glass of water and watered my chocolate plant.