beat. The Bronx was young
and alive and free.
I don’t remember much
about my younger sister
Angelique, who was three
at the time, but knowing her she was probably
wrapped around my mother’s leg, not wanting to let
go. On the other hand, I
remember my older sister
Nicole perfectly. She was 9
but had already begun to
worry about her appearance. She always wanted
to look flawless, a characteristic that hasn’t changed.
She complained about the
heat and how it made her
hair frizzy, and that she
didn’t want to sit in the
balcony where everyone
could see her. My father, a
reserved man, just stared
at the scenery; I could
not tell whether it was in
admiration or in scorn.
The sunset had come earlier than expected. The fiery
orange sky burned passionately above us and, for the
first time, the streets were
slowly beginning to empty.
People took their portable
radios keeping the noise
to just murmurs and the
chitchat of the gossiping
old ladies, who were still
discussing the arrest. Their
husbands were packing up
their domino equipment
and the kids were long
gone, most likely in bed by
this time. The orange dusk
turned into a deep blue
and the tiny stars glimmered like never before
in the New York City sky.
I am a part of this city. Fully
present in that moment,
when all I could remember
from the day before was the
noise, but how easy it was
to forget it and become a
stranger to the chaos of
everyday living. My mother
found the candles and lit
them. My sister considered
blowing out the candlelight
and making a wish for New
York City, the New York City
that was her home. She
craved the days filled with
Disney channel, when she
was glued in front of the TV
for hours watching artificial
lives of characters, their
voices and actions changing
her faster than she could
imagine. But I desperately
wanted life to stay the way
it was in that very moment.
Our adolescent hands
gripped the flashlight,
shining it towards our dark
ceiling. The mattresses
on the living room floor
were clumped together
like clammy bodies on the
morning New York City
subway. There was sweat
dripping on our tan, sunkissed skin and we felt
warmth inside our bodies;
an intense euphoria. My
Dad told us stories and
we began to live them:
my mother, my father, my