This is such a William & Mary cliché and I feel like people say this all the time but the Spanish House just feels like home. It’s funny because when I go home to visit my parents, they will cook me a meal which I pick out and they’ll make a dessert I like, and that’s for me. But every time I’m here, someone has made cookies, or arroz con leche, or there’s a dance party and it all happens so spontaneously. It’s like we’re in constant celebration of one another that we’re so happy to be in the same place, that it doesn’t need a reason. I don’t need to be their son to deserve to be part of that. Not to minimize the doting that my parents and the importance of that for me in my life, but it’s special to have people that don’t have a biological reason for treating me so kindly who are always so kind.
