There are 5 men in my family named Thomas on either side, including two in my immediate family.

Thomas comes from the hebrew ”Ta’om” meaning twin.

I’m a Gemini, one of five women in my family born beneath that constellation.
My name begins with the same three letters as one of my grandmothers, three great aunts, and two aunts.

Common sense calls this a bunch of coincidences.

Maybe they are,

but maybe they’re tiny winks from the universe that I belong to these people,

that this, beyond DNA,

is on purpose.


My mom’s favorite movie is Cinema Paradiso.

In it, there’s this line:

“Whatever you end up doing, love it!”

I don’t know if she realizes that she’s applied this to her whole life,

She’s loved it even when it was hard to hold on,

and now, it loves her back all the more for it.


Stand at the intersection of 55 degrees and some change north by 3 degrees and some change west.

Its a weepy sky,

Brisk air,

the kind that lingers in your socks after indoor heating finds you but your toes are trapped in the memory of outside, a temperature you left at the doormat.

I knew I loved Edinburg from the aisle-seat’s view of the train window. She’s not a city who tamed herself into tourist-friendly. To love her is a choice, a real preference. There’s water, but you’re unlikely to sunbathe. There are tourist stores, but it is a city of Scots. The Queen of England may stay in Balmoral, can historically claim Hollyrood house, but the cobblestones on the street speak in a Scottish brogue, not the queen’s english.

I never resented the rain or wished the sky into something beyond its default grey. I loved the city as she is.

What I felt for that city became a lesson in love:

Some things are not for everyone. Their climate isn’t agreeable. They don’t entice with a cosmopolitan flavor. Some people only want what is tourist friendly and touts universal appeal. That isn’t Edinburg, and it isn’t me. We are overwhelming on the senses and polarizing in existence. The people who love us dont love us for sun-soaked days and balmy weather. They bought the ticket for Edinburg. That’s what they want, not Florida.

I’m not a lot some folk’s preferred destination. But, those who are about it, about me, are sure. I get to be a decision instead of a default—to be somebody else’s Edinburg— an experience almost a decade old that I still cherish.


Maybe maturity is repeatedly choosing not to suffer when vindication or pity or righteousness are so tempted.

Maturity became appealing when I understood it as a flow instead of ascending in a tower built by accomplishments, age, milestones, an inventory of trauma and humility unblended into the edification of everything else. Progressive living is the opposite of those things. I thought that I had ti climb to be real, that doing made me. Turns out, this is all that there is. I an already made, already real, and the process of surviving time is divesting from some ideal future and grounding into now without allow it to destroy or define me.