When I was a little girl growing up in Puerto Rico, I dreamed of telling stories and had so many that lived inside of me, and others that still do. I’d scribble in notebooks, pretending to be Lois Lane, never imagining that my life’s plot twist wouldn’t just happen on the page, it would happen in real life.
Yesterday I played tennis with a couple of players I’d never met before, at Chicago’s Waveland Park, next to a leafy municipal golf course built in 1901.
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