I love BYU, I really do.
But when I leave L.A. I don't get homesick necessarily—but I really start to miss my culture.
i miss graffiti.
i miss tamale ladies.
i miss men riding their horses on the street.
i miss the elote men.
i miss the illegal fireworks.
i miss low-riders.
i miss Mexican murals.
i miss chisme sessions with mi mejores amigas.
i miss the cholos who ride the blue line.
i miss hearing Spanish on the daily.
i miss driving on Cesar Chavez.
i miss watching Sabado Gigante with my abuela.
i miss Pacific Blvd in Huntington Park.
i miss Mexican slang.
i miss hearing ranchero/banda music blasting at all times of the day.
i miss not being a minority.
i miss the taco stands that pop up around 7pm at night.
i miss feeling like i've left the country and crossed to the other side of the border.
i miss having friends with ethnic names like me!
i miss being one of 2837182937 kids with the last name Flores in class.
i miss shopping in entire grocery stores devoted to Mexican food—not just 3 small shelves of an isle.
i miss having tapátio as a ready available condiment in every restaurant.
i miss seeing mexican candles and altars devoted to the virgin mary on people's lawns.
i miss 107.5 k-love & 107.1 Super Estrella.
i miss hearing all about Mexican soccer rivalries in high school.
i miss getting pan dulce from San Antonio Bakery.
i miss my raza.
i miss mi gente!
my name is lauren marie flores & I'm Mexican.