Josh

Ch 1

Ew. The sun is peeking into my window. Can't it just go back to sleep a bit longer, just so I can do the same? No? I didn't think so!

I hug the blankets on my bed over my shoulder and try to bury my face in their warmth as a way to hide my face from the sun's arrival. It always does this. Every morning on the clock, it awakens me with a blinding brightness that it sends in through the slits in my window covering.

I am probably laying in bed only five minutes in my now awake state when the door to my bedroom opens. I pretend to be asleep until I feel a set of manicured finger nails run through my hair. A laugh escapes my lips as my mother leans down and places a loving good morning kiss on top of my head, then she pulls back and lets me get out of my bed.

Today it is my birthday. I'm turning.four. My mother claims that I am turning into a handsome big boy, and that I am growing much too fast. But I honestly think it is not fast enough!

My mother takes me down to our kitchen, where we find my father sitting with his mouth and ear to the telephone. He must be having one of his private phone calls, because he has his back hunched toward us and his voice is low. But he sits up right and puts the phone back into its receiver when my mother clears her throat. She must have been glaring at him, because father looked rather guilty. But this is recently common occurance, though I do not understand any adult intentions.

Father comes and gives me a kiss on my cheek and he also gives me a smile. I watch it disappear just as fast as it came as mother took me to sit at the table. There I am served my special birthday breakfast that consist more of sweets than what mother usually allows me. My plate it soon clean. Mother comments something about me having a messy face and gets to using a dish rag around my mouth to wash me up.

After breakfast it is time for me to go get dressed. This is my favourite part of the morning because mother is allowing me to dress myself without her help because of the special occasion.

The outfit for today consists of my favourite swim trunks, a soccer jersey, and my rain boots. I think mother may like my sense of style, because she was grinning and trying to stiffle a fit of laughter when I exited my room to show her. Mother's smile is my favourite sight in the whole world.

My mother is a fairly kind woman. She goes out of her way to try and do things for me while she'll do little for herself. She's a bit complicated and I don't understand her. I don't think my father does either, because I know for sure that the loud noises I hear when I lay in bed at night, are their arguings.

Back to my mother. She's very pretty. Her eyes are big and blue. Her hair is golden, shoulder length, and it curls naturally around her narrow face. She spends a lot of time out in the sun, too, so her skin is a bit tan. Her body is slim and her athletic side makes it easy for her to not look too scrawny. She plays soccer with me in the back yard to keep in shape, or so she tells me.

She's the best mother ever. Or at least I think she is. Who wouldn't think she is? Well, I do not think I would like such a person no matter what.

Then there is my father. He's. . . Okay. He is really nice to me and tries to show me stuff that he thinks I may like, but he doesn't realize I have a passion in sports- Not things like nature and whatever he does on his computer.

Father is a Japanese-born person, unlike my American mother and I. He has a basic appearance compared to my mother. His hair is pitch black and usually kept messy- as if he always just rolled out of bed- and he has pale skin compared to mother because he works on his computer a lot. His eyes are slanted, and they are coloured a hazel light enough to be gold. He's a bit chubby but he's handsome I guess.

Then there is me. Joshuah Kuma. Their messy and golden haired, tan skin, hazel eyes child that adores going out and playing soccer all day. My eyes are slightly slanted and resemble my father's, but I look mostly like my beautiful mother.

"Josh," My mother's voice brings me from my very important thoughts. "How would you like to open one gift now? You still get your others later."

My squeal of approval must have been all she needed. Mother hurried down a hallway to the room she and father shared. A moment later she returns with a box just a bit larger than her head. The wrapping paper is mainly blue with numerous sports balls printed upon it. Just looking at it makes me so happy.

I rip at the packaging as soon as my gift is at my height level and I find that it is a brand new soccer ball. Though as I look at it, I see someone had written on it!

"I had it signed by your favourite soccer star," My mother explains when I stare at the writing. "I know how much you admire him. Do you like it?"

"Yeah!" I answer and throw myself at her, and felt her catch me then hug me tightly. I love my mother so much.