Mi Casa

What do they see? 
Do they see the brown stains along the bottom of an old house? 
Do they see the Christmas looking tree out front? 
Do they see the green shrubs blooming with flowers, scented purple lavender beside it, 
a humongous tree that shades and protects it? 

What they don’t see, are walls inside the living room painted with vibrant colors by my Tia Jose, la artista that reminds me of my cultura, many many paintings of Frida that hang on the walls draped with color waiting to be admired, 
millions of books gathering dust hoping to be picked up and explored the warm melodious music that fills the house like coffee beans from the espresso machine. 

They don't see our green backyard, the gnarled tree at its heart, warm lights criss-crossing through the crooked branches. They don’t see the orange and pomegranate trees, abandoned succulents and flowers, 
mint and chile that my mother uses for sopa de albondigas. 

Based on the front side of my house no one could ever know what colors lie within.

-- Citlalli L., 9th-12th Grade