My Perfect World Is A Dull Colored Asymmetrical Bricked Building

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My perfect world was a dull colored asymmetrical bricked building located at 1259 Clay Avenue in the Bronx, where I lived with my family. My mother, father, and I … and later on a new addition, my younger sister Katherine. I said dull, but to me it has always been a bright building full of colors, and unforgettable memories. Not only my building, but the entire neighborhood. We had an elderly guy, George, who always walked with rhythm in his feet, and a wide grin on his face offering free dvd’s to all the kids. Selena, was a dark chocolate tall woman with a bright smile. You couldn’t miss her. “Selena que fue! Selena que fue!” she sang and danced with me and my little sister every time we saw each other. You walked passed the …show more content…

Nothing … just sat still. I hopped up on my two feet and something had happened to my left eye! I remember seeing a bright red color on the top of my eye, I thought I was bleeding. I became hysterical in tears, and my father picked me up and held me. He cradled me back and forth feeding while I drank my bottle of fruit punch juice. I looked up at him through tears and a funny eye, he was so handsome. Unapologetically black, chocolate and strong. He took pride in his well picked afro, and ungroomed facial hair. His eyes were so chinky, whenever he laughed they disappeared.
I know for sure, there were a tons of moments while living in Clay that my father showed me love and I felt loved. But I can’t recall any of those moments as clear as this one. I had his presence, his heart, and love. We all did, my mother, sister, and I.
It was 5:00 a.m. when my mom got a call from her boss asking her to be at work an hour earlier than usual. The clouds hadn’t even start to come out yet. Still, my mom had no choice but to get ready and make it to work in time. I fell back asleep, when my dad woke me up. I was confused. “Am I still going to school?” I thought. He didn’t know how to dress me up and style my hair. This would be the day he put himself in a women…well his woman’s shoes. When he started to style my hair I noticed, that his touch was distinct from that of my mothers. He was gentle and cautious, as if he was caressing a newborn baby’s

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