My dad and I were once invincible dominoes partners, I was his frente, and he was my compiche, my wingman.
When the domino table materialized at that time of the night at our family parties, he scanned the room looking for me until we locked eyes.
I am not competitive, but I was driven to win, if only to see the fire in his eyes.
The thrill of the domino smack on the table, as my soft-spoken papi yelled “Capicuá!” — he just knew he killed it.
But when I was a teenager growing up in New Jersey, his unspoken love made me feel even more lonely in a family that always felt a little foreign to me.
Persons:
papi, “, we’ve, he’d, Papi
Organizations:
frente
Locations:
Boston, New Jersey