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.

There’s something sacred about pushing a red cart down the aisles of Target when your brain feels like a battlefield. For me, these trips aren’t about consumerism — they’re about survival. A new lip gloss, some eucalyptus-scented body wash, a candle I’ll never light — these aren’t luxuries, they’re lifelines. When everything feels too heavy, Target gives me the illusion of control, a ritual of joy, and just enough peace to make it to next week.