Yo puedo hablar español, pero muy poco -- I can speak spanish, but very little. I said that sentence nearly every time I spoke to someone on my mother’s side of the family. I am half caucasian, and half hispanic (Puerto Rican, to be specific). I go with my family on trips to New York every year or so, and meet my aunts, uncles and cousins up there. They are all colored, with black hair and can speak spanish fluently. Unlike them, I am white, with brown hair and struggle to hold a conversation in spanish with my ten year old cousin. I take spanish classes, but never really remember what it is that they taught me. Once a year during winter break,  I fly down to Puerto Rico with one of my uncles and his kids. Though even more beautiful than I could ever vocalize, the unparalleled isolation I felt mitigates the experience for me. There, my older relatives spoke as little english as I could spanish. So, when everybody else talked, I felt like the odd man out because I knew nothing of what they were saying. When they talked to me, it would be with broken english, or my uncle would tell me what they were saying. When I tried talking to them, the response would always be “huh?” or “eh?” I remember one year, all I did was go to the beach, hike up in the mountains, or go to the museums. I slept in or hung around my grandparents’ house whenever my uncle and cousins went to visit my other relatives. I felt foreign. I want to learn to speak spanish fluently, so that I can talk to my mother’s side of the family. I want to feel like I can fit in perfectly with them, skin and hair aside. I want to love them as they love me -- Quiero amarlos como ellos me aman.