My block is slightly curved, because all of the
cul-de-sacs were taken. But my block is the new America.
To my left is a Latino family that cooks the best carne asada that I have ever tasted.
Next door to them is a white family that home-school their children. They run up and down the street in their bare-feet tossing rocks at one another.
To my left is a Latino family that cooks the best carne asada that I have ever tasted.
Next door to them is a white family that home-school their children. They run up and down the street in their bare-feet tossing rocks at one another.
On my
right is a family from Fiji that has trained me to love the smell of curry. Their son calls me “Uncle”- even when we aren't on our block.
Directly across the street is another Latino family that has a gardener do their lawn twice a month.
On my block, there is an old Asian man that, in the early morning hours, steals Recyclables. But he always smiles and waves. I reply with a wave as he pedals away on his ten-speed.
My block has a black family on the end of the street that park their car so close to the stop sign you have to drive out extra far and stop twice before venturing out into the world.
My block is filled with basketball hoops, mini-vans, Mercedes and BMW's- of course, none of them are mine. On my block, we all wave- because I wave… and eventually, people wave back.
On my block, there are a few stray cats- but I have never seen a rat- on my block.
My bock is filled with life and happiness, but sometimes sadness plays a visit as a member of our block loses a relative.
My block is filled with immigrants, natives, and soldiers who fought for our block.
Our block is the new America, the way that it should be. Filled with every race, gender, religion, and age living together.
My block is filled with commuters heading to the train and parents taking kids to school. We leave together and return together- a synchronized dance of movement with beauty and grace, and of course, the occasional honk of impatience.
My block should be every block!
Directly across the street is another Latino family that has a gardener do their lawn twice a month.
On my block, there is an old Asian man that, in the early morning hours, steals Recyclables. But he always smiles and waves. I reply with a wave as he pedals away on his ten-speed.
My block has a black family on the end of the street that park their car so close to the stop sign you have to drive out extra far and stop twice before venturing out into the world.
My block is filled with basketball hoops, mini-vans, Mercedes and BMW's- of course, none of them are mine. On my block, we all wave- because I wave… and eventually, people wave back.
On my block, there are a few stray cats- but I have never seen a rat- on my block.
My bock is filled with life and happiness, but sometimes sadness plays a visit as a member of our block loses a relative.
My block is filled with immigrants, natives, and soldiers who fought for our block.
Our block is the new America, the way that it should be. Filled with every race, gender, religion, and age living together.
My block is filled with commuters heading to the train and parents taking kids to school. We leave together and return together- a synchronized dance of movement with beauty and grace, and of course, the occasional honk of impatience.
My block should be every block!
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