a happy day turned bad
It was a beautiful day. The sun cast it’s radiant rays upon a little small village in China. Little dust of ivory clouds navigated itself around the sky. On that day a naive girl of four years-old sat in her concise house of only one room., no bigger than a mini garage. An average size twin bed faced the wall, a bed that three people shared every night. A cheap old fashioned stove adjacent to the bed, and a cabinet where three utensils, three plates, and three pairs of clothes lay. I sat on the cold stone floor wearing my pink little summer dress while playing with my rusty train set. All days were the same for me. My parents both worked from when the sun rose to when the sun set, only coming home to make dinner. Life for me was quite lonely. I ran free through the village like a wild child, for no one cared. I became independent the day I could walk. As I sat there, playing, the door suddenly banged open. My mom stood there anxiously with fear in her chocolaty eyes. I knew something tragic had occurred for she never came home early. She grabbed my forearms and pulled me up with a jolt and snatched a plastic bag from the corner and stuffed what little clothes and toys I had in it. My own brown eyes were filled with tears, but I didn’t let them fall. She dragged me along as she moved and on her way out, she shut the door with a thunderous bang. Who would have thought that that was the last day I would ever see that little one room garage house again. As we moved along the unfamiliar dusty streets, I was quiet as a four year-old could be. Unasked questions swirled in my head. What’s happening? What was happening? Where am I going? Why is my mom so upset? Where is my dad? We got on a crowded blue bus. There was the terrible smell of cigarette, body odor, and car gas. I clung to my mother’s pant leg for I didn’t want to be separated from her. I buried my face into her pant leg, not wanting to draw attentions to...
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