WHOOP! WHOOP!WHOOP! The police cars came rushing down the streets from every angle. Pedestrians were distraught by the pandemonium. An enormous nitric acid truck laid on its side and the driver dripping blood from his forehead. At the time, I was five years old I remember right before it happened a blind elderly man crossing the road on Monument Blvd about to get hit by a truck. Instinctively, I ran out in front of the truck and pushed the blind man out of it’s path. However, some of the nitric acid had spilled from the confinement of the truck when the driver had tried to swerve around the man. The driver spun out of control and the crashed to the ground. The streets had begun to get congested and build up around the scene. The acid was everywhere, some of it got in my eye I didn’t realize it, at first, but when my father had found me lying on the ground. He realized what happened and told
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“I’m here, sorry I got distracted for a moment,” I replied.
“So, how are you? My lawyer said had been adopted by a family a few years back and it got me thinking. Maybe, I could adopt back and can come live with me California,” my father pronounced.
I went silent and brain scrambled with thoughts and fears. What about my family and friends here in New York? What about Mrs. Carlos and her teaching how to cook? What about my father, he still loves me and never stopped? What am I going to do?
I quickly hung up and slowly with one foot at a time climbed the stairs. The door of my room was already open I stood at the threshold and stared. Glazing at my accomplishments, posters, and photos with friends. I could never throw all of this away, on the other hand, I’ve missed my dad every now and then. At least three times a year, I would sit and cry on my bed hoping he would come and sweep up from the convent. Though, it never happened instead the Pulaski family came, swept me up and provided me with a lovely room and all of my needs and
“I’m here, sorry I got distracted for a moment,” I replied.
“So, how are you? My lawyer said had been adopted by a family a few years back and it got me thinking. Maybe, I could adopt back and can come live with me California,” my father pronounced.
I went silent and brain scrambled with thoughts and fears. What about my family and friends here in New York? What about Mrs. Carlos and her teaching how to cook? What about my father, he still loves me and never stopped? What am I going to do?
I quickly hung up and slowly with one foot at a time climbed the stairs. The door of my room was already open I stood at the threshold and stared. Glazing at my accomplishments, posters, and photos with friends. I could never throw all of this away, on the other hand, I’ve missed my dad every now and then. At least three times a year, I would sit and cry on my bed hoping he would come and sweep up from the convent. Though, it never happened instead the Pulaski family came, swept me up and provided me with a lovely room and all of my needs and