Lifestyle: In Practice

Spanish lives in my hellos and goodbyes, in domino games with my tíos, in memories of piña coladas and mangú. I was the girl who stopped speaking Spanish at five, who traded merengue for iced coffee and skyscrapers, but still sneaks bachata into her cleaning playlists. Between two worlds, I write my rebellion in Spanglish. I am still Dominicana, even when I dream in English.

Dear Jay,  Thanksgiving night you were telling me how much you loved me, how thankful you were to have me in your life. The next morning I woke up to text that it wasn’t going to work and had been blocked. That’s the kind of person you are, the kind of person who disappears, who forgets the birthday of the woman he claimed to love, but didn’t forget to text other girls. He always remembered to clean up the broken glass from the mirror he smashed or the parts of the controlle

After a moment that changed everything, I chose myself. I chose survival. In the quiet of my room, with fear and strength tangled inside me, I let go of a future I couldn’t hold onto. I named her Amelia—to give her a life I couldn’t offer. She’s mine alone, carried in every step forward, in every word I write. This is a story of loss, choice, and the kind of love that births resilience.