My Hometown

About the Piece

The following piece is a descriptive narrative of my hometown, in which I describe the surroundings, the community, and overall living situation. The purpose of this piece is to really try to understand my “home” and find ways to make it better for future generations. Enjoy the read!

My Hometown
Nick Lee

A town covered in despair, drugs, gangs, and education. A once thriving community that had an abundance of people, resources, and employment, now was only the remnants of a war-torn dream. There exists a street which stretches for several miles and takes over 30 minutes the entire terrain. A wonderful journey for friends and family members, but lies among this street is short of wonderful. Prostitutes, drug dealers, and out of business local stores all can be seen when traveling through this withering street. Women in provocative clothing approaching cars and men as their Johns watched from afar. These scenes were nothing new among this street, nor was it new to this town. And this street that lacks color and filled with holes of agony and pain, disrupting a peaceful adventure through this torn down town. The actions among this never ending street was neither the problem nor solution for this old town.

Within the town lacks a sense of community. Screams that disrupt daytime naps are ignored. Voices of help can be heard echoing off of the houses down streets are nothing but echoes. A man once ran down street after street, screaming in pain for help, but to no avail. His voice, silenced. Neighbors neither reacted nor care and went on about their day as if there was a practical joke being played. Know thy neighbors, never seemed to exist in this small town. And with a small exists small businesses, local family-owned businesses. But walking down the street from your own home, and within 2 minutes you could witness the empty rooms filled with nothing but lights and despair. The despair of a once thriving family business, but came to a complete halt for whatever reason. And then this empty room, this space, was nothing but a space. In a few weeks it would be filled with another business, only to have it failed after a couple months of success. Signs of “Out of Business” or “Closing Store Sales,” can be seen every month, yet even then the sprawl of costumers refuses to exist.

And every night, the sound of helicopters and sirens patrol the sky. Zipping through neighborhoods, police cruisers and their sirens would bounce off the houses, while the helicopters fluttered in the sky shining their lights down onto the ground. The strangeness of these sounds made it more comfortable to sleep at night, knowing the town was safe, but at the same time kept you awake because there was a sense of the unknown. And this small town exists as the unknown for many people. They say silence is great in a small town, but in this town, it’s better to hear the screams, sirens, and terror to understand that you are truly at home.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Personal Reflections, The Scribble and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s