The House on Hays River Street
My family and I have moved around the place, like birds migrating, but it isn’t for the reason you might think. My parents just wanted us to be closer to our schools. First it was Midway city street, close to my elementary school, Hayden. We’ve settled here on Hays river street, for my middle school years and probably for a little while for the rest of high school. Unlike the other house, this one is better and I am grateful for the opportunity to live here with my Mom, Dad, my brother Peter, my sister Tara, and Me.
My Uncle Who Lived In My Garage
There was a time while growing up, my mom brought her struggling homeless brother into our house. I had no idea what this would become because I knew nothing about him. However, one day I overheard my mom talking on the phone that he is a recovering drug addict. A drug addict?! I thought, but he was recovering so I thought nothing of it. The more he would stay in our house, the more I would connect really well with him, after all, he is my uncle. He would be telling me stories of him going to jail sometimes and we would eat together. But good things never last forever. Feb 10, 2019, I will never forget this day because this is the day my mom came up into the driveway while I was working out in the garage.
“Mom, what’s going on? Why are you crying?” I worriedly stumbled on my words.
“It’s your uncle, he’s back on the street taking drugs again. Come on, get in the car and help me find him.” she weeps. I got in the car and had so many questions. There is this spot where he hangs out with his old homeless friends and by the looks of it, they do all sorts of drugs, but usually the cheap ones, involving tin foil and a lighter.
“Mom! There he is.” I shouted, he was sleeping on the floor so my mom equipped me with pepper spray for in case i’m in trouble. I called him to the car and it looked like he was happy to see us. He gets in the car and my Mom takes us back home. It gets worse and worse.
What Sam Says at Sleepovers
Sam comes down to my house, a two hour drive from Los Angeles every other weekend. He comes to hang out, play games, eat and sleep over. Sometimes we would argue and roast each other over the stupidest things.
“Hey, what game do you want to play fatty?” I ask.
“I wanna play your mom.” Sam replies.
“Kid what are you saying?”
“Your mom is what I’m saying.”
“Your actually goofy”
“Your mom is goofy” and so on and so on. Through all the time I’ve been mad at him, we still managed to stay friends. That is what sets a difference between your friend and your Best Friend. Although he can be ignorant sometimes, I love my friend Sam, and there are soon to be more sleepovers.
The Metal Box
While being in elementary school, lunch time would be the best time. That’s when you eat with your friends, talk with your friends, play with your friends. However, I would see one of my friends bring a metal box to school like he was a construction worker. But it wasn’t full of tools, it was full of delicious meals and treats that his mom packed for him. My friend group started with their jaws dropped and with drool streaming down to their chin. He knew how much we wanted to try it, so he let us share one sandwich. That one bite was enough to know that I also want a metal box. The day after that, I would show up to school head high with a Thomas The Train print on my new metal box.
My grandma on my dad’s side was like a second mother to me, we stayed at her house when both of my parents were busy working. I still remember how it felt. I still remember how her food tasted. I still remember her.
I was asleep and I woke up to a beautiful morning with the sun shining. However, where there is beauty there is pain, and that day is when my dad told me. After the bad news, I felt like no matter how bright and warm it was outside, it felt so dark and cold like thick heavy dark clouds covering the sun. It was the first time I had seen my Dad cry.