Its all a blur, yet it still brings tears to my eyes. About a year ago, in hoboken, I was at home, living with my mother, Flora, who spoke with a thick Cuban accent. She was always a gentle women, understanding even. But sensitive and emotional sense she was eight months pregnant. The morning when it happened we were at home eating pancakes while she sat on the other side of the creaky old, wooden table and rubbing her hands on her baby bump, she was acting... Strange, the past month. That morning she was in tears, but was pushing forth a smile, She packed a book bag of cloths, all her money, a tent,food, and a map. I was suspicious. I thought to my self if we were being kicked out our apartment, i knew she was having trouble paying the bills, but something felt off. My mother placed the bag near the window with the emergency staircase to the roof was, at that time I didn't understand.
She had me get the book bag on, and open the window and stand near the drafty window allowing the breeze to tug at my page shirt. A rumbling sound started coming from the stair way of our apartment building. she screamed for me to make my way to the roof, and gave me a letter. She told me read it ones I'm safe and stay low for a while. Suddenly the rumbling sound was more distinct, almost like a large bundle of people coming, mama gave a little nudge for me to go. While i began to hop up the stairs i took my last glance of her before a ran, her on the floor crying with banging on the door as it bursted open and police men ran. I knew then it definitely was not us being kicked out the apartment. Once i was on the roof I read the letter.
Dear Carolina,
You must be very confused right now, no matter what story you hear about me, know i love you. Ive been framed for theft and murder, and they are deporting me to Cuba, it was the best thing my layer could get me on these charges. The government will try to put you in foster care, but my lawyer said if you do, you'll never be able see me again when I come back. I will find away back, for you and we will live the life we have always wanted. Stay put for a while, my intention is to return exactly a year from now when no one will remember my name and what they think I did. keep your faith, faith in yourself, in the moon, in god, and in family. Find a job and spend money wisely, and the tent is your home unless you find a friend to stay with. There is a note in the bad that excuses you from school for the next 2 weeks, stay safe.
Love, mama
I will never forget the sharp painful feeling at that moment after reading that letter. It felt almost as if someone stabbed a butchers knife through my chest for everyone to see my insides. i would not stop crying for a long time but it I stayed true to what she said. Well its been year, actually next week it'll be a year and I'm very excited to see my mother again. The past year I've been living on the roof of my best friend, Angel- she offered me to stay at her house but her parents dislike me because the rumors of my mother, and are scared I'll hurt or rob Angel- , which is next store to a pizzeria that i work at. The owner of the pizzeria is a 55 year old Italian man named Marcel. He looks over me almost like a father. The tent that i live in is quite big. But I sleep on a blanket, during warm weather, under the stars and the moon. Some times the moon talks to me. Ever sense I was small the moon has talked to me and my mother said she heard it too, i think she was lying to keep me happy. But honestly it does talk to me.
When the sun appears between the buildings to shine on on my face, I get dress and hop to the lower building, the pizzeria, and climb the latter down to the floor with my heavy, and shaking book bag on my back to open the pizzeria and clean the kitchen, until ten minute later as Marcel walks in the front door as he greets me good morning. After an hour of kneading pizza dough Marcel hands me my daily income, even though ill be back that after noon. It takes me about half an hour to walk to school, and i don't take the bus because it would be more paper with my name on it, for my mother to sigh. Once i get to my school Im 20 minutes early, like always, And eat breakfast where I'm bullied and teased almost but all, but my happiness of life shines off a pure smile, which gives me the name ''freak''. Their insults is full of childish and jealously so i really don't pay mind.
Studying while i eat helps me escaped, just as much as the moon, and prepare and get my mind in a learning mentality. During the school day me and Angel sit together, and share everything, especially my answers, i may live in a tent but I'm smart. The long ringing bell of dismissal rang my head to a buzz in my mind. By the time i walked home, the pizzeria was packed with hunger consumers.
