Moving… Again

We would challenge each other, we made a pact that we wouldn’t become statistics and had a strict no profanity rule.I was able to developer friendships that extended past school hours. I was with them when the news about Marvin Gaye died.
We sat on Tasha’s steps and cried. After the last tear had been spilled, we combined our loose change and went to the corner store for a bag of penny candy. Squirrel Nuts, Mary Janes, Jolly Ranchers, Jaw Breakers, and loose Now & Laters. Life was good.

Invisible girl

Laughter erupted! The next thing I know everyone was talking about my family living under bushes, being homeless, not having clothes, and on and on. I was so ashamed. I felt my heart beating in my chest as I tried to come up with a smart sassy rebuttal, but I didn’t have one.

A place to call home

I used to imagine that the splattered seeds mixed with the green and white chunks of Osage-orange flesh were what brains on the pavement would look like. I thought that until a few kids and I stumbled on a bunch of blood and what appeared to be brain matter on the ground behind a building on our walk to school just about a week before. It was not the same, at all! We, I mean I, poked at some of the larger greyish chunks with a pencil from my bag. I was so fascinated by the soft and delicateness of it. It didn’t seem reasonable that this soft fragile mass could be the source of who we were. I could not comprehend what happened to the magic of the memories, thoughts, and love as the neurons that produced them lay in the street.