As I was reading Junot Diaz’s “Wildwood,” the image of Lola being sent to Santo Domingo reminded me of the time I went to Mexico with my cousins. It was during the summer of ninth grade, and my siblings and I went along with our cousins. While my cousins went to see their uncles and aunts for the summer, my siblings and I went to see our grandmother and three uncles. During the security check-in at the airport, one of us was asked to the side because he had a water bottle which was not empty. We had to wait until our cousin finished drinking from the water bottle, and then we departed for Mexico. The whole plane ride took about three hours, and during this time, I was staring outside the window, admiring the clouds. When we landed, my siblings
