We rode down the street on our bikes through the warm Houston days, and we ended up at the shopping center, looking for something to do. The city was different then; simpler. You could smell the salty Gulf in the distance, through the shade of the trees. We spent our time playing, never caring, coming home at dusk to the calls from our parents. Dinner was at the table, or around the corner at the restaurant—southern, Gulf Coast, Latin, Asian, American, we didn’t care. It tasted good. It filled us and made us strong, so we might one day fulfill our dreams.