I was lying on my bed in Brazil, typing out a personal story that came to my head but nervous about it becoming anything. It was completely in Spanglish. Not because the story had to do with either English or Spanish. In fact, the story is based in the French Alps. But Spanglish is kind of my heart language, and for some reason the story fit better within both languages.

I submitted my story and eight months later, my story found a home.

I was reminded that “different” thoughts matter and there’s always a place for them.