Tonight I didn’t want to watch Netflix or call anyone or even write. I wanted to read. So I picked up this book from the bookshelf in the guest room that’s been catching my eye for the past couple of weeks.
I read it for the first time my freshman year in high school. Today I read it in one night.
I was reminded that there are no rules in writing.
It’s a beautiful compilation of short stories told from the perspective of a young teenage Mexican American girl named Esperanza.
She doesn’t fit in her world. She internalizes the stories of everyone living on her street. The pain makes her sad. So she writes. One day she knows she’ll leave Mango Street, but eventually she’ll come back home “For the ones I left behind. For the ones who cannot out.”
I feel this. Not sure why I’m back home. But I feel this.