My family lives in La Casita—the
Little House. It’s anything, but little. That’s
because it’s also a restaurant, with eight wooden
tables and lots and lots of overstuffed chairs. A
vase with fresh flowers sits on a big fancy table
under a crystal chandelier right in the middle of
the restaurant. The whole room seems to glow,
especially at night, when all the lights are on. And
since the floor is polished like glass, my parents, Luis
and Fortuna, insist that we walk one step at a time
through the dining room.