House on Brookhurst Street

A Big Toddler

I was just your typical three-year-old. Curious about the world or whatever. Little did I know my life would change forever because of one thing: my sister. My parents were expecting my sister and I had to give up my room to my little sister so my parents could care for her. They eventually broke the unfortunate news to me. My little three-year-old self ended up packing up all the things in my room and slowly carrying them over. My stuffed animals, pillows, and blankets. Now I don’t know how I was capable of such things. I learned how to do things on my own without the need for my parents to ask.

Photo by cottonbro studio on

A Breaky Situation

I had been preparing for months. Hours and hours of constant practice just to get it perfect. I had private lessons with my piano teacher once a week. However, a month before my piano recital, I broke my arm on a playground and couldn’t play anymore. My teacher and I had to storm a solution to the problem. I couldn’t let all the practice go to waste. I mean I still had one good hand. Maybe we could make something work. We tried it out with me playing the left hand and her playing the right. Souvenirs d’enfance was the song. When the special day arrived. I had my blue cast over my elbow and was dressed in my suit. We went up to the stage. My teacher and I played our hearts out. The crowd erupted with applause and I couldn’t believe what I had accomplished.

Photo by Juan Pablo Serrano Arenas on

Double Black Diamond

The air was cold and crisp with a slight breeze on a dark winter night. I strapped my left foot into the binding and headed towards the lift. I took it up all the way to the top and got off stumbling. I knew what was coming next and strapped in. My descent down the mountain began and I went on my usual path, steering clear of other people. I turned down the black diamond, my first ever. It was much steeper than anything I was used to. Carving down was tough but I had the hang of it. Until I didn’t. I slipped and fell backward. The whole slope began a slide that I slid down headfirst after losing control. Ice and snow went everywhere, my face and sleeves were cold with snow. I reached a standstill at the bottom of the hill, still recovering from the brutal fall that caused my downfall. I never once made that mistake ever again.

Photo by Visit Almaty on

It’s Not My Fault

“You walk funny.” That was something not unheard of for me as a kid. Since I was a kid, I would always get these comments from adults and classmates. I would always avoid the question and get sad every time it was brought up. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault I walk like that. Some say I walk like a girl or a model. Others say I walk like I’m gay. I came to the realization that the way others view me should not affect the way I think about myself. Now, the phrase doesn’t even phase me.

Photo by Tatiana Syrikova on

The Curse Continues

I was at Sunday school during lunchtime and playing around with my friends on the playground. They had swings, monkey bars, a jungle gym-type thing, and slides. That day I opted for the monkey bars. I was swinging back and forth with my friends. One of them climbed and sat at the top and I wanted to be cool like them. I climbed to the top and sat up there. It was really high and I was so scared. When I climbed up, I didn’t think of how I would get back down. I slowly descended myself when my leg slipped. I fell headfirst into the ground and broke the fall with my hands. What happened after was a blur. I stood back up and felt a wave of pain in my right arm. Running to the restroom, I threw up because of the fall and realized I couldn’t move my arm anymore. I had two other cousins who had succumbed to the same fate as me. Guess it runs in the family.

Photo by Rahul Sapra on

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