Life is amusing in that it only allows you to remember certain events when

growing up. Its fascinating how I remember very little of my childhood home or
neighborhood. Individuals outside of my immediate family are faint, it seems family
and unique situations are all I can recall. Most of all I remember the quality time
spent with my family. My parents, two brothers and one sisters together in a
beautiful home walking distance to Howard University. I grew up in the LeDroit Park
neighborhood in Washington Dc. Beautiful Victorian style homes of multiple color
with very little room for a back yard. At the time I wasnt allowed to venture past
the driveway; not that I would. I was too afraid to go past the driveway. We lived
there around the same time I had experienced my first bee sting. It was a beautiful
spring day, with my hand in hers my mother and I were minding our business
nonchalantly walking to the park. I begged to cross through an open field full of
daises. I remember the vibrant yellow flowers glistened in the sun-light. I suppose I
disturbed a bee. Because the next thing I recall is myself crying, grasping near my
ankle, and being told if I hold the ice on the bee sting it will feel better. Everything
was new to me. Even learning exactly how I fit in with my family. One of my earliest
memory is trying to fit in with my older brothers. I can recall wrestling with my
bothers. Sometimes considered traumatic events when experienced by many
children. It was normal growing up in my home. I recall the first time being excluded
from my older brothers. I only remember because at four, my older brothers teased
me for crying to my mother and getting them in trouble for what I considered being
too rough. Even as the youngest, Ive always even to this day look up to them and
have always consider there guidance. I remember walking downstairs to find my
older brothers wrestling each other in the den. Typically the TV was blaring on abcs
One Saturday morning escapade of shows. The coffee table was normally moved to
side. My moms vase with this weeks bouquet of flowers and my dads statues
always delicately removed from their mantel and gently placed on the hardwood
floor away from destruction. I could easily see them from the staircase and was
excited to see that they were already awake ahead of me. I was waking up to what I
thought would be a beautiful exciting Saturday morning. I imagined a typical
weekend morning. One full of cartoons, cereal, and hours of playing with my older
brothers. Karl was winning like usual. Hes the oldest and strongest. Still the oldest
and strongest till this day. I ran into the den full of energy and excitement. I
distinctly remember the awakening I would receive in the morning. The rays of
sunlight from the huge skylight and floor to ceiling windows was intense. I
remember being able to feel the radiant golden sun coming down the stairs. It was
the perfect way to be welcomed on sunny days. I ran down the remaining stairs as
quickly as my little four year old legs could take me. I raced through the foyer into
the open den where I meet brothers with what should have been a knee to the
stomach. Instead just as I raise my knee and try to tackle Karl he moved his face
into an unavoidable collision with my knee. My brother received his first black eye
and I received my first bruised knee. Acting out of instinct my brother jumped up
accidently shoving me to the floor. I hit the floor with force banging my head and
began to cry. Both my brothers rushed to me. Karl unaware of the already apparent
swelling pleaded with me stop crying. If I continue my parent would hear and all the
fun would be over. I used my hands to suffocate the loud sobbing. Once the
whimpering began to subside I noticed my mother was standing over head of us

three boys. I received the lightest punishment which was typically because as the
youngest I didnt know any better. My older brothers and sisters were always
conscious of this when playing with me. Which in return meant I was occasionally
left out of certain activities. This was contrary to what I wanted. Like most children
my age with siblings I wanted to be accepted by my brothers. At the time it was the
most important thing.
When I was five my life consisted of home and school. The only television I
was exposed to was Sesame Street. I dont even recall visiting the grocery store.
Luckily my mother was and educator at the elementary school I attended. At the
time I was in the second grade and she taught kindergarten. My life was pretty
predictable. Every day after school I would walk a couple of yards to my mothers
classroom and stay there with her for a couple of hrs. I never looked forward to
doing my homework in my moms classroom after school. It always felt like
detention. Or like an additional class. When there wasnt any homework my mom
never gave me the opportunity to explore for fear I would be disruptive. At four I
was growing into a typical fearless little boy intent on investigating everything. My
memory is blurry but Im confident I was oblivious to the significance of the
situation. One of older brothers bursts into my mothers classroom. Im sitting in a
students chair doing my homework as shes sitting at her desk across from me
preparing tomorrows activities. Baby what happened? my mother cries to my
brother. Just as quickly as she cries out she realizes that hes okay. Hes only out of
breath. My brother Kalub screams out, He fell. Karl has fell. I cant tell you
exactly what I thought at that moment. One of my brothers has fallen. Truly, I dont
believe I could comprehend exactly what that meant. What I could comprehend was
the clear panic and despair in my mothers eyes. Something I hope to never see
again on anyones face. My mother hastily grabs me in her arms in one swift
motion, while motioning my brother out the classroom she orders him to lead her to
her son. My memory fades to an ambulance outside where we realize he only has a
fractured wrist. A simple game of tag that led to playing on a jungle gym built on
concrete in the inner city park. Miraculously it only sounded much worse than it
was.
My next memory consisted of a family meeting where my parents decided
the family should move. But allowed my siblings and me the opportunity to input
our thoughts. They decided to move the family to the south where they would
purchase enough acres and run a farm. Although the accidently occurred
overwhelmingly my sibling wanted to stay. We all were born in Washington DC. Its
all we knew. The idea of dirt roads, trees, and neighbors for miles seemed
unnatural. I was indifferent to the idea of moving. I wasnt concerned either way. I
hadnt developed any type of attachment to Washington DC. I was still too young.
My brothers and sisters had everything to lose. Their entire world was in DC. Not
only their friends but childhood memories. Imagine the culture shock being taken
from the inner city and told your moving to the south. My brothers and sisters all
cried. Complaining for days to no end. Once again I saw this as an opportunity to fit
in. I never wanted to declare I was unbiased towards moving. So I announced my
displeasure for moving the only way I knew how. When my parents told me I

couldnt take my four wheeler I threw a fit. I tried to reason with them. Begging
them not leave

Wanted to fit in and find a reason to want to stay family will always love you and
accept you regardless