Then You're in my Neighborhood | Teen Ink

Then You're in my Neighborhood

November 24, 2009
By neyat123 GOLD, Hawthorne, California
neyat123 GOLD, Hawthorne, California
17 articles 0 photos 15 comments

You can see the children riding up and down the street, until their skateboards decide otherwise. If this is so, then you can see those same children walking down the block to ol’ Mr. B’s, hoping to quench their thirsts with a soda or two. Or, you’re bound to see the aging woman, walking her Husky, oblivious to the nasty trail he leaves behind. If your eyes perceive what I’ve explained, then you’re in my neighborhood.
You can taste the endless sound of the ice cream truck that my mom claims she doesn’t trust. And the promising dinner, that makes my mouth water. You can also taste the smell of the burnt barbecue that the folks down the street attempted to grill. But mostly, you can taste the multi-cultural people. If your taste buds tingle at what I’ve explained, then you’re in my neighborhood.
You can smell the familiar, mixed aroma of the home-cookin’ in my apartment. You can smell the Thai cuisine downstairs, or the Indian take-out next door, and even the Nigerian food across the street, but the more usual scent of the pasta boiling right at home. If you get a sniffing sensation from what I’ve explained, then you’re in my neighborhood.
You can feel your fingers check off the daily activities, mundane, but reassuring. You can touch the unpleasant stucco walls, surrounding the apartment with tackiness. You can feel the railing of the staircase as your hand gently glides with it to the bottom. You can mostly feel the warm hugs of our much too friendly neighbors next door. If your hands come into contact with the surfaces that I’ve explained, then you’re in my neighborhood.
You can hear the sound of the last-chance teens, keeping out of trouble at the continuation school across from my house. You can hear the chorus of school children laughing, at Roosevelt

elementary and get that nostalgic feeling of when you were part of that innocent laughter. You can hear the sirens as they frequently pass, as if our street were the only one that could be of use. Typically, though, you can hear the stillness of the never changing community. If you’re ears take in what I’ve explained, then you’re in my neighborhood.


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