Height diversity defines our family. My father soars high- high compared to the rest of us. His legs like skyscrapers, like peaks of mountains. My mother on the other hand, lays low. She is pretty petite, standing more than a foot below my father. My brother is the size of a middle class house. Not too tall, not too small.

My brother and I, the middle markers, are the average of the both of them. I, however, got the short end of the stick. Like my mom, I am vertically challenged. I, like a mouse, have to crawl and climb to be able to reach the treasures in my cupboard. My mom takes the stool to the needed ingredients. My mom and I’s similar height have brought us together. We both hum while we hem our new jeans, we both juggle jealousy when we see maxi dresses in the store. But, even though we aren’t able to reach for the stars, we can just grab a stool.