My brothers and I all have the same skin color --Alex, Zach Christian and me-- skin that is pale and challenges taking in the sun’s rays. It burns at the sight of day and rarely achieves that perfect golden glow.

My mother comes from a culture much richer. Her skin is dark like a creamy cup of coffee. Her skin radiates warmth and compassion, shining light on those around her. It is the home I run to, comforting me, consoling me, and encouraging me when fear creeps into my skin. Her skin is the smell of coconut oil and shea butter, taking me to an island far away from here.