My story takes place in what seemed to me to be the heart of New York, Brooklyn. To me Brooklyn was the place to be growing up, especially my block Flatbush Avenue. Me and my sister shared a white bunk bed. I had the top bunk, she shared the bottom with my youngest sister. We lived in a two story building over a clothing store owned by the landlord. I am the second to last child out of my mother’s nine kids. We all went to school in a three block radius of a junior high, elementary, and high school. The best time to me was walking home from school though, because I saw all my friends and best of all it was just me and my brothers and sisters. We were like celebrities because everyone in the neighborhood knew us. In the summer time, all day and night you could hear the music playing from the cars passing by and the little merchant’s mart across the street playing music of Soca and Calypso all day long. Sometimes we would go on the rooftop and look at people passing by shopping and enjoying themselves. Sometimes people would see us and yell, “Hey! Get down from there.”It was mid spring about a week before my 16th birthday. Me and one of my close friends were walking to my house after school. I opened the door to my building and I was feeling all happy because we were about to go buy the shoes that I waited a week for, to wear on my birthday. When I reached the top of the stairs, I saw bags and lots of them. I turned the corner and I spotted a note on my door. As I got closer the door open and my sister had this knowing look on her face, as if she felt the cold rush in my blood and the pain that now pounded in my heart. It was an eviction letter and it said that we had 24 hours to get our things out and they’ll return to put a lock on the door. I was confused, embarrassed and angry all at the same time. My friend asked if she should stay, and I embarrassedly told her to leave. When she left, I walked inside and stood next to my bed. The only house I had ever known was being pulled from under me like a rug.
My childhood memories were washed away as every garbage bag filled. My sister was the one packing the stuff. I hadn’t seen my mom in hours and my sister didn’t say a word to me because my face said it all. For the most part, I just felt anger building up inside me. I remember asking myself why? How could my mother go through something like this and not say a word to any us? Why didn’t she tell us she was that far behind in rent dues? Am I being selfish for being angry or do I have every right to be angry at her? I asked my sister with a gulp of tears in my throat, is this serious? And I still can see the sad look on her face saying, yup!
From that day on my life was turned upside down and I’ve been sailing on rough shores. I lived with my sister just ten minuets away from my old house. It was okay, but it just wasn’t home. I remember crying myself to sleep because I missed my old room and the closeness we all shared in that apartment. Most of all I missed waking up every day with my sisters and brothers annoying me with all the favors like, "Yoooo, iron my shirt for me,” or “Can you gimme two braids?" I also remember waking up every night yelling at my brother for blasting music at 1 am on a school night. It was annoying but I still missed it. I missed hugging my lifeless teddy bear which I could not sleep without, and most of all my decorated walls filled with posters and pictures of my favorite cartoons and singers.
Although we fought and had our disagreements, we were best friends and had one another’s back. My sister had a corporate job in the city and had gotten me a position as an assistant in her office. The days seemed to get longer and unbearable from school to work everyday. I began to feel really depressed. I remember on my birthday I was sitting at the kitchen table and everyone around me was smiling on the outside, but I was very mad not a smile on my face would change the feelings I had for everyone there. I was writing in my notebook about how I was feeling I was miserable and it took every ounce of energy for me to blow out my candles.
During the next couple of months I lived with my older sister and I was even more miserable than before. I slept on the couch and was greeted with disgusted faces that seemed to get worse by the days. I was a stranger in my own family’s house. It almost seemed as if she wanted me to do something she didn't like so she could have a reason to kick me out. It was within a month that I finally realized I was silently being thrown out. When my bags were put by the door, it was quite evident that she had wanted me out. My life as a 16 year old kid was nonexistent. My days began at 6am and ended around 9pm. I left and started staying with my mother in the same neighborhood we grew up in. At times, me and my mother slept on the same bed together. I no longer felt the anger I once held her responsible for, but I felt as if she had lost as much as I did, if not more. When the summer began to approach, things that had consoled me made me angry, and people I loved became strangers to my heart.
My life turned a new page and I was a rebellious young women. I hated school because all my friends would go to a place called home that I never knew, so I began to cut and chill with my boyfriend. Could you imagine at 16 years old being left out in the world to fend for myself? Honestly, what did they expect me to do? Whose arms was I to run to for shelter and protection? I got kicked out of school and was lost in the world. I came to the Bronx with a home-girl and that’s when I became reckless. I partied every night and I saw my family members usually two times a month just to prove I was alive. My pain was numbed by the endless partying because I never took time to think about anything. I was finally far away from reality and I liked it that way. I was trying to punish everyone for my pain, but little did I know I was hurting myself the most.
I see now that my mother tried to keep the house problems to herself so we wouldn’t have to stress out and we could continue being children. My mother tried to handle these situations alone, but things just got out of control and she had a lot on her plate. I was angry at everyone for my life. I was angry at my family members for all the wrong decisions that I made. I was doing the wrong things to make me feel better about the situations I had been through. I was foolish and immature and didn’t think of how much more stress I was bringing upon myself. Now I know that my mom had been fighting the eviction for a while now and that she had made an effort and paid off half of her back rent, but the landlord still gave the eviction letter. I wish we knew what was going on because we might have been able to get a little part time job and help. From this, I now see that God puts you through trials to give you tough skin for tomorrows, and he never gives us more then we can handle. My mother did what all mothers would do protect her kids to the fullest, and whoever disagrees just ask your mother and see what she says.
No comments:
Post a Comment