With a beautiful smile of confusion she asked her five year old son do you still love me? The kid stood in shock as he watched his mom pull off her hair. She stood there looking at him with a wig gripped in her hand. Moments later the situation ended in a hug. – The doorbell rung, the small kid answered the front door of the small house. Blank stares were shared between the tall man and the child. The mysterious man told the kid that he was his Dad. Separation of the screen door shielded all of the emotion. The child’s older cousin towered over him, telling the man that he had to leave. – After the cancerous death of the child’s mom. Him and his older brother moved to their Granny’s house in Seattle, Washington. A few years went by the young boy’s older brother moved to Baltimore, Maryland. His kid brother has been on his own since then.
Ordinary days in Seattle matched some of the moments in my past. Gloomy, dark, cold and gray. I attended a elementary school a few blocks away from my house named Emerson. If you seen Emerson it looks like a castle. Sitting on a big hill, having tall brick walls. Days at school were simple yet fun. I got transferred out of my kindergarten classroom to another for being talkative, playful and independent. In my new kindergarten classroom I met my new found brother Cam. We resembled each other being short kids with brown faces and long hair. I also met lifelong friends Keenan, Erin and Kyianna. When I started meeting more people the dark days of my past started becoming distant.
My kindergarten days were during the mid 1990′s. A time when there were many social problems happening around the world, that’s probably the reason why we were advanced little kids. On a ordinary day in my kindergarten class Cam, Keenan and I were drawing pictures of people. I glanced over at Cam’s art. His stick figure person had breasts. I thought what he drew was super funny so I sketched breasts on my drawing too! Cam Keenan and I sat at our baby table laughing. The humongous looking teacher approached us at our tiny table, looked down at us and said that we had to erase our drawings.
On a random day my uncle walked inside of my house then he asked me “Do you wanna play football?” From that moment my next life event was going to be playing little league football! The team was named the Panthers. My football team’s practice field was across town in the Central area (also known as the Central district). This area is walking distance from downtown Seattle. Similar to the other side of town, this area has a lot of hills, long streets, potholes, corner stores, community centers, city buses, churches and basketball courts. The main street in the inner city is named Rainier avenue. This road is super long, it connects from the Central area of Seattle to the South side (also known as the South-end) On sunny days when the sky is clear Mt. Rainier, which is a long distance away…looks like it’s literally sitting on the street.
The day that I arrived at Judkins park I was overwhelmed. My eyes scanned the vast area noticing people scattered across the field. The color of brown faces and green grass appeared vivid in my eye-sight. Before I signed up on a team I had to make weight. Kids being placed on teams couldn’t be too light or heavy. I was a skinny little six-year old. I really wanted to play football, I made sure that I was going to weigh enough. I stuffed a few rocks inside of my pants pockets. When it was time for me to weigh in, I pulled my shirt over my bulgy looking pants pockets, walked inside of the old rickety shed and stepped on the scale. I possibly wouldn’t have made weight if it wasn’t for the boulders I put in my pockets. I was placed on a age group named the 89ers. This was the lowest level team a kid could play on. It was ideal for me at the time with my age and weight. I was 6 years old weighing about 50 pounds. That football season went by fast I only remember a few of our games. However I do remember journey’s back and fourth across town. There was a time after practice when my coach gave me a ride to my house in the South-end of town. Some teammates and I sat in he back of my coach’s truck. Cruising down Rainier avenue the chilly wind cooled the top of my sweaty head. The vehicle we were rolling in stopped at a stoplight. The area we came to a halt in was a midpoint of the inner city. I looked around realizing the intense movement. All sorts of people, a bunch of different markets, corner stores, fast food restaurants, vehicle traffic and city buses. I was still unaware of the deeper context of the struggle people were going through in the community with gangs, violence and crime. Meanwhile driving on the busy road…I realized that I had to use the bathroom. Rainier avenue seemed liked it stretched forever. It got to the point where I was hoping my house would magically appear. I looked at one of my teammates who wasn’t looking in my direction. I just had to pee! A little bit of urine trickled inside of my sports girdle. I clenched my tiny bladder, holding my leak for the rest of the trip to my house. A positive thing about playing football for the Panthers was that I became friends with people that lived on the other side of town. The following year I played for a team near my house. The name of the team was the Rainier Beach Vikings. Athletes on my new team called me a traitor but the reason was deeper than football: I would say the city of Seattle has five main sections. North Seattle, Central district, South-end, West Seattle and the East side of Seattle. During the 90’s and early 2000’s the inner cities (Central, South, West) was active with culture, community and sadly crime.
When I got in the first grade things at Emerson didn’t change. The newest thing for me was the teacher. There was a day when she wasn’t letting any of the students use the bathroom. I raised my tiny hand and with my high pitched voice, I asked if I could use the restroom. She said No!. After a few minutes of sitting in my mini chair at my tiny desk warm urine trickled down my leg. I sat there looking around the classroom like nothing was happening in my pants (I guess peeing on yourself comes with growing up). A small puddle of pee collected near my shoe. I raised my hand, telling the teacher that I peed on myself. The classroom went silent like all of the kids agreed with my pee-body decision. The teacher told me to leave the class and go get clothes to change into. I walked up the long old fashioned hallways with my short legs. When I arrived at the office in my pee-pee pants, I was given a pair of sweat to change in. The sweatpants were literally some 90′s wear. Every step that I took back towards my class, the sweats made a “swooshing” sound. The pants were comfortable though! Sometimes teachers are more strict than they need to be buuuut I’m glad that I didn’t have to clean up the mess: A random day after school at Emerson I walked home with a lady friend. (This was around the time that I was in kindergarten or first grade) While we walked toward our houses in the neighborhood our steps got slower and slower. We came to the corner of 56th street where the both of us would have to go separate ways. Standing still staring at each other, no cars, people, or buses passed by. It was like we were the only people outside. I could feel my heart beating fast inside of my little chest. I watched her pull some overgrown weeds out of the ground. Gravity pulled us closer to each other, without speaking we kissed. There was silence of happiness, we didn’t say a word then parted ways. I walked up the street attempting to hold in my smile but I couldn’t!
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