World Travelers

Ok, I’ve decided that in order to keep my sanity that I have to be a writer. I think, well damn it I know that I have a story to tell, several. I have to tell it and no one can tell it for me. What kind is the question. I have always wanted to find a book that told a story that I would love to tell, my story but no one is going to write it but me. I have lots of ideas. They mainly come from my life. I have never liked reading short stories, but they may be the best form for me to start. I have always dreamed of writing. But it wasn’t something that I could see myself getting paid to do. I think I will tell my stories obscurely, I love characters and people and asking why. I want to know the motivation.

The first story I will unpack from my life will be a letter to Maya Angelou if she was my age as a child. I will tell it and have her be my companion and confidant.

Mama says I’m going abroad, I hate it when talks like this. I know the word from reading but it is one thing to read it and another to say it out loud to someone. It is good Daddy isn’t here he would smirk and roll his eyes and worse yet tell her that “she is trying to act white.” I’ll learn later, that he is just insecure and that she is trying and growing and he is just intimidated.

Don’t want to do that. She is prattling on now, she is yelling at me that I’m not paying attention. She is telling me that we have to meet her downtown today on her lunch hour to get stuff done. She is anxious and busy, busy, busy,

Oh my…

Well by we she means my sibling and I. I’m going to have to reschedule my day. Days in the summer have a way of getting away from you. Dang, it I have to go the store earlier and then to tell my crew that we can’t go walking by the boy’s house she kinda likes like we planned. Oh well.

So, I’m getting my instructions. Money in the drawer, what bus/train to take and what time to meet her. Remember the big red building on the street of the train Jackie” ok. Like I don’t know this already.

I have to pry my sib away from the TV and threaten a whuppun’, but we get to the train station on time. It is always magical to me that you could take a train and be so far way from the gloom and grey of the ghetto and to the gloriousness of Downtown. I feel like Dorothy on the Wiz.

We have made it. Going downtown was always an adventure and I was always terrified. Not only did I have to keep myself alive I had to keep my little sib from death as well and keep them entertained, free and alive.

I’m only 13.

I tell these — people that all the time, they seem to think that I’m an unemployed 30 year old instead of a kid.

Oh shit, there that is the big red building whizzing by. This is our stop. The train is not that crowded and I grab my little and stand in the door praying for it to open.

I wonder about my mother sometimes, does she think I’m able to do all the stuff that she has me do or is she just trying to kill me. I’m terrified most of the time, but it is like a game that that we play.

She tells me to do the impossible.

I don’t think that I can,

And then I do it.

We have to take passport pictures today. she is sending me to Germany to spend the summer with my Uncle. I was an serendipitous situation, she will appreciate the break.

And maybe, I will too.