Sandra Cisneros My Lucy Friend Who Smells Like Corn

Decent Essays
The story “My Lucy Friend Who Smells Like Corn” by Sandra Cisneros is about the Narrator and her friend Lucy. The Narrator who is a girl who loves Lucy and think of her as her own sister. She isn't part of Lucy's family yet she loves her as if she was something more than a sister. I have someone to me that was a brother to me, still we didn't have a friendly relationship like Lucy and the narrator, but it change with time. The narrator has that in common with me. She's a single child who has someone else to be their brother or sister. The narrator had to go through the situation of the identity of who is her family. I had to go through on who my brothers and sisters are. I admire that the narrator has someone like Lucy, but so…show more content…
That doesn't matter. Anyways we ended up probably lollygagging somewhere. For some I didn't like him and I can sure he didn't either. He got jealous of all the toys that I had and I did too for what he had. Dumb right? Well we I was only five and he was four. Yep I'm a year older and yet people say we look so much alike that we looked like twins . I hate when they tell us that. I always tell myself that I'm different from him. Am I? I don't know. I got off topic now. Where was I? Oh right! Jealousy it’s what made us hate each other as kids. Because of jealousy we would fight. Every. Single. Day. No joke. We fought each other for the most idiotic reasons ever. One time we had an argument on whether to call a burger a hamburger or a cheeseburger. I learned nothing about burgers that day. I don't remember why I pinpointed on that fight. Maybe it was my conscious reminding on how stupid fighting is. This was just one of our infamous fights because everyone in our family knew about our violence and we didn't just fight each other, we had a war against one another. We just had a long history of battles that never ended. We bited, punched, scratched, etc. anything that a six year old and five old could use against each other. We fought so often that I couldn’t count as a kid, and I could only count to thirty when I was five. It started to be such an ordeal that our Moms would argue about what to do with us. I feel guilty about it
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