After the Storm
The night was young, and I'm outside roaming the dangerous streets in the Bay Area with my god sister waiting for some excitement to unveil, when my default bird chirping ringer goes off. A picture of a fair-skinned woman with nice long straight black hair along with the name Mom appears on my cell phone. Before I could place the phone to my ear I could sense irritation and my mood instantly changed. Utterly confused and upset, my mother seeks clarity by asking “Did you leave the house last?”, and I said, "No", but I could only imagine what was really going on. There were two possible outcomes either my mother’s ex-boyfriend was trespassing our apartment and had taken everything or worse someone burglarized our home. Disturbed from how my mother's indirect questions left me. I started to believe something happen at home, my excursion ended as I decided to drop off my god sister at her place. I knew what was going on at my apartment didn’t seem right, I headed home furious to this not-so fun night. The thought of not being comfortable in my home was terrifying and nerve reckoning at the same time. If something or someone done terrible acts targeted to our home, it would only make my house less of a home. Without safety and privacy, the house lacks a measurement of harmony, love, peace and serenity; it is not a place to call home.
I drove my car so fast to get my god sister home, if you had seen me you would have thought I was a local teenager trying to get away from the police car. Where I'm from, Richmond, CA, everyone gets to experience firsthand and live high-speed chases for kids around my age and city officials such as county sheriffs and police officers. It doesn't take a genius to notice our community by being victimized by the residents and city officials who think they're rebuilding our neighborhood. Sometimes I wish I lived in a different era of time when everything was suitable for all ages, free events for everyone no matter which...
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