My story began here, in New York. More precisely, in a subway station, where the loud roar of the train and the clickety-clackety sounds of ladies high-heeled shoes bounces off colorful vandalized walls. Though most high society folks thought the walls just part of the back round in their life, the walls was my life. On some walls messages really caught my eye, such as ‘blacks for freedom’, or ‘chocolate and vanilla go together.’’ I’m a black, and so is my daddy. I’m pretty sure my mamma is too, though I’m not entirely sure. She ran away a week after daddy married her. Daddy rarely talks about her, and when he does, he’s either yelling at me because I act like her, or crying because I look like her. Sometimes I think that daddy doesn’t even like me, that he wished that momma would’ve taken me with her, and he doesn’t have enough money to get a lawyer and contact her. Of course, I don’t tell him that, because he’s my daddy, and even if he doesn’t love me, I love him. And because of daddy falling behind on paying the bills, we got kicked out of our apartment, and ended up here down at the subway station begging for money. Sometimes I watch the little girls with their momma’s getting on the trains, with their little plaid skirts and freshly ironed blouse, holding their momma’s hand and getting spoiled with hugs and kisses by their relatives. Sorrow usually breaks my spirit watching all the happy families, so I have to stare at the inspiring messages on the walls to remember how to mend it.


Sometimes daddy brings home wads of cash, and I watch him count all the ten dollar bills. Once when I asked him where he got all that cash, he just said through clenched teeth, ‘that’s not important right now, Georgia.” If daddy wont tell me where he got that cash, I’ll go get some myself.

Technically, my story actually started when I reached the top step leading out of the subway station, my forbidden place to go. “Don’t want to lose you, Georgia.” Daddy had said one night, his eyes half closed, a drained Budweiser in his hand.

I took a deep breath, sucking in that clean fresh air. The city awoke when I took the last step off of the staircase. There is hope. I’ll find it.