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Life Her Story

In my earliest memories, I am spinning. My eyes are glued to a sea of stormy skies and beneath my feet the packed earth smells of the coming rain. I am in Mexico. I am surrounded by laughter, and I bathe happily in the warmth of my family’s bubbling Spanish speech. I am home. Then, life goes on fast-forward. My father had been in the United States for the first eight years of my life, visiting only a couple times per year, before deciding it was time that our family should be reunited. I remember my mother asking me if I wanted to go the U.S. I remember, more importantly, only thinking how...
It was my junior year of college. I was completely in love and actually living with my (then) boyfriend, Chris. We had officially moved away from the seemingly typical shacking-it-up college couple and were actually playing house. We split the bills and every night I made us dinner. We had made the decision that down the line a sparkly ring, white dress and penguin suit were in our future. A baby fit perfectly into that little dream—later. Never in a million years did I think going to the doctor over Christmas break for a stomachache would mean finding out I was pregnant. Until reality came...
When I met her, I felt the feeling you see in movies but that you don’t believe truly exists. My heart jumped in my throat, my palms were sweating and every word I muttered sounded absolutely ridiculous. It wasn’t because she was stunning (though she was). It wasn’t that she was intelligent (though she most definitely was). It was her presence that made me want to take my heart out of chest and place it in the palm of her hand. And I did give her my heart – instantly, unthinkingly and lovingly. 
 It was our first few days of college. She was my suitemate, and she was all I could think about...