Re post-Essay 1 with Vonnegut in mind

Bittersweet Memories
My mother always knew what was best for my sisters and myself. She knew to keep us at a school away from sixth street would keep us safe. As children we could not understand what she understood. Our friends left our sides and we could not make new friends in the new school. Our brothers were tough on the streets. We would see them come home sometimes with cuts on their face. Through it all, my sisters and I stuck together and created many happy memories. All these memories together built what I will always remember as a foundation of our lives.
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 in the neighborhood being upset at my sisters and I because we were going to a new school out of the neighborhood. Entering Wilson Middle School was interesting but freighting. My first day I got off the bus, and I noticed that my sisters and I were the only girls with brown eyes and brown hair. We felt unwanted! The students would stare and say “hola,” as if we didn’t speak English. As the time went by we learned that life wasn’t so easy. We had to prove it to ourselves that we could make it on our own. It wasn’t long there after that we lost our friends. We begged for months and years to stay in our neighborhood school. We were mad at our mom but we didn't understand gang violence and the meaning of the word “ghetto.”
Our world wasn't always filled with love and excitement. I can 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 on their clothes. Don't let me forget about the men, who were chased by the police and would hide underneath the cars in our parkway. This brings to mind the many bricks that were thrown at our windows almost every weekend. It was too much at times. It was dangerous but we didn’t see it that way. It was something that we were accustomed to. My sisters and I were naive about the foolishness that was around us.
My sisters and I lived in this world of make believe. We built our own fairytale. We thought all would be great and we would all hold hands and sing. We lived in our fairytale house where we were away from the madness of the streets. I recollect building a playhouse with blankets in our backyard. The blankets would be held by hair clips onto chairs. The sink was a bowl with a hose running through it. Our beds were tires. We remember our childhood memories being adventurous and fun.
This place was good to us, as we were good to it. Our memories that we created were happy. We miss sixth street and very much appreciate the memories we take from it. We have grown into beautiful women that are graceful with lots of admiration. I miss the innocence of being a child, that doesn’t see color, politics, and social statuses. It goes to show that a place doesn't make a person. I believe that the memories make who we are today. These memories are ours. We made this place, a tale of hope and happiness.