HPAC Young Writers Review Volume I | Page 26

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