Maybe This Time…


I’ve always wanted a home that I can call mine. We live in an apartment. The apartment complex is pretty great, with ponds, lots of trees, pools, and many other amenities, but it’s not “ours”. Sure we rent it, live in it, eat in it, sleep in it, but it’s still not “ours”.

I don’t mean to sound selfish or ungrateful, but I have always wanted more. Whenever we have people over, I feel embarrassed. One time when having someone over, a friend questioned the space we call home, asking if we live there, making me once again have to overcome feelings of embarrassment and self consciousness. The space is small and isn’t the best for entertaining, and we love to entertain. If only I had more.

Summer Camp

Every summer at the beach I did Junior Lifeguard Camp. We would go every weekday Monday-Friday for about a month and train. At first, I really enjoyed it, but after a while it got boring. We would play different games and have different competitions every week, such as a sandwich competition, like who could make the best sandwich. (On a side note, during this competition one year, I had forgotten to make a sandwich for the competition, and I still wanted to be a part of it, so I pulled the sandwich out of my lunch bag that was meant for my lunch and put it in the competition. It wasn’t the smartest decision though, because I didn’t win, and I didn’t have anything to eat, except for some fruit and other snacks.) We would also play sand games like dodgeball, or go out to “JG Island” which was a big inflatable raft they had in the middle of the ocean that we would swim out to and then jump and have fun falling off of. 

One year I had quite the experience. The beach is open to everyone, but they just section off a little for the JG’s with ez-ups. My mom was hanging out on the beach and she walked by and waved. A girl who I considered my friend in the camp, said, and I distinctly remember, “Is that your mom”? I said yes of course, and then she proceeded by saying “are you adopted”? It was as if I was on an elevator, and my stomach dropped. I paused, felt the pain and then felt my mouth open to respond. I proceeded by stating “no, I may not look exactly like her but that doesn’t mean she is not my mom.” That was the most heartbreaking moment for little me. 

I am mixed, my mom is Caucasian, and my dad is Native/African American, so for someone to ask if I was adopted just because I have a different shade color of skin than my mom was very hurtful.

But just because we don’t look the same, doesn’t mean we are not alike in other ways. We have the same eyes, a similar smile, and a very alike personality. Do not let other people tell you who you are. YOU are the one in control of your life.


It’s my turn up to bat. I’ve waited my entire 7 years of life for this moment. I feel the adrenaline rush through my veins and out my legs as my hands grip the metal bat. My cleats grind into the dirt as I walk up to the plate. I straddle my feet to the sides of home plate, and wait for the pitcher to get ready. After a couple practice swings I ease into position. As the ball crosses the plate I close my eyes. I blinked and in less than a second the ball teleported into the pitcher’s glove. It was faster than the speed of light! 

Anxiously I set myself up for the second pitch. The ball throws itself out of the pitcher’s glove. My muscles tense up and I swing my bat as hard as I can. HOMERUN!!!!! I hear my teammates in the dugout screaming for joy. I feel the adrenaline rush once again as I speed through the bases making my first homerun. I run past first, second, and third! Home run!!! In a flash I have made it all around the field. I feel the impact of my teammates tapping my shoulders and hitting my helmet to congratulate me on my great accomplishment!


At some point everyone has to come back to reality just like a softball flying into the air to come right back down again. My grandma on my mom’s side was not the best person to my mom growing up. She was a heavy smoker and constantly remarried. The bitter smell of my grandma’s cigarettes just like her sour and sullen personality. My grandma didn’t really care about my mom. She gave her the freedom to do whatever she wanted. Most kids would take this freedom and run with it. However, living with my grandma’s lifestyle, my mom promised herself to never turn out like that. 

As soon as she could, she moved out and became roommates with her good friend from school just to get out of her bad living situation. My mom loves animals. She dreamed of going to a school to be trained to be a veterinarian or a part of an animal rescue program, but that didn’t work out. She had responsibilities to take care of. She needed work to support herself. To this day, she still has her dreams of becoming a veterinarian, but those dreams had to be pushed aside. She needed a sufficient job that would provide money to survive, because the price of living is high. 

The Start of Something New

Everyone needs a change, to start fresh and new. We had been wanting to move into the area of my elementary school and middle school for a long time, but we couldn’t find the right place for us. Finally, when I started 9th grade, a place in the neighborhood we were looking for became available. The house was finally within our budget. Even though the house was older, and hadn’t been remodeled in a while, we decided to take a look. The house itself wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was right for us. After much consultation and deep thought, we made the final decision to rent it. The location was perfect and the neighborhood seemed friendly. I knew a lot of our neighbors because I had gone to school with them. People were always out walking their dogs, everyone was friendly, and it was very peaceful. Kids are always riding their bikes, playing in the street, hanging out at the pool and just enjoying themselves. Even though it was not our dream home, now looking back we are very grateful to make that decision, because we love our neighborhood, and feel safe. Even though now that we live in the neighborhood surrounding my elementary and middle school, and I’m in high school, we still love it. It’s never too late to start now. 

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