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i don't live with my dad anymore.
i don't know why though, my mom took me back. we now live in a baby blue house that looked like it was slowly starting to fall apart from the outside. it's owned by my grandma, the one who lives on the ranch.
i don't like it. down the street there's a highway that you can hear. you can hear the honks and screeching of the cars. you'd also hear the cars racing each other on the streets and revving their engine. i can also hear people fighting, la viejitas yelling at their kids and husband while the husbands yelled at the family pet to shut up.
i like it here as well though, already been a week and it feels like home. maybe it was because i was surrounded by other people who are like me and there's more kids around the same age as me in the neighborhood, ones who didn't want to play an icky game nor make fun of my slight accent i have. i'd always hear them playing bachata and cumbia, music i've heard before. my grandma on avenue st always played selena, but never blasting it like they did here.
i remember she turned up the volume a little too high for the neighbors liking. you'd hear slightly muffled music coming from the inside of the house but never to the point where it'd hurt their ear drums.
that's how it was, she'd turn it up a little bit too high for their liking and they'd come marching and start berating her. but they'd never seem to complain when country music was blaring through the entire neighborhood.
