Essay 1: Final Draft

Bittersweet Memories
“Fifty cents please,” I recall the lifeguard asking before letting us in to swim. During the summer Washington Pool would be the place to be. All the cute boys where there early. The crazy girls who would dive in when the lifeguards weren’t looking. The pool was about two blocks away from my home. My sisters and I lived on the sixth street for about ten years. Next to the pool was Washington Middle School where all the cool kids went. I remembrance my sisters and I then going to our local grocery store; where we would buy hot cheetos and ice cream in the summers.
“Hey, don’t touch if you ain’t going to buy," she would shout out. The lady at the negrita store was serious, and at times rude. "The negrita store" is what everybody called it; I can’t recall its real name. The “negrita” store means the black store in Spanish. As my sisters and I got older, she had became pleasant and smiley. “You all be careful,” I remember her saying instead of a thank you. Last I could remember her husband had passed away and she sold the store. We missed her.
My mother had told us that we would be going to a school we had never heard about it was forty-five minutes away. She was always trying to make sure that we went to the best schools. I remember my friends being upset and soon after my sisters and I had no friends in our neighborhood. We begged for months and years to stay in our neighborhood. We were mad at our mom not understanding gang violence and the meaning of the word “ghetto.”
Our world of excitement and love, wasn’t always so. I recall my brothers coming home with cuts on their faces. My brothers would call everyone who “had their backs” to get revenge. I can still recall the smell of weed in the basement and in their clothes. I forgot about the men, who were chased after by the police. They would hide underneath the cars in our parkway. I bring to mind the bricks that were thrown at our window monthly. I can’t sum it up; it was too much at times. It was dangerous but we didn’t see it that way. My sister and I were naïve about the foolishness that was around us.
We lived in our fairytale house where we were away from the complex and madness of the streets. I recollect building a house with blanks in our backyards. The blanket would be held by a hair clip onto chairs. The sink was a bowl with a hose running through it. Our beds were tires. We had a homemade pool that my father made from fiberglass. We loved to swim in it but by time are eyes would burn. Most of our childhood memories are being adventurous and fun. My sisters and I lived in this world of make believe that all would be great and we would all hold hands and sing one day.
Our memories were being happy. This place was good to us, as we were good to it. We miss sixth street and very much appreciate it. We have grown into beautiful women that are graceful with lots of admiration. I miss the innocence of being a child, who doesn’t see color, politics, and social statuses. It goes to show that a place doesn't make a person. We always kept are heads high and smiled. I believe that the reminiscences big or small make we were today. We can’t forget the past otherwise we are doomed to repeat it. Love is kind. Kind is patience. Patience is our memories. These memories are mine. I made this place, a tale of hope and happiness.