Mrs. DaSilva, Where Are You From? I’m from  barefoot summers playing dodgeball in the street till dark,  the sweet smell of Juicy Fruit gum (mom’s purse heavy with it),  making chains with the yellow wrappers, riding my blue Schwinn bicycle on cracked sidewalks, “step on a crack and break your mother’s back”, and bees buzzing … Continue reading Mrs. DaSilva, Where Are You From? →