My mother was 9 months pregnant with my youngest brother El'Leonte. I watched her work the night shift at a convenience store down the street for the entire 9 months of her pregnancy. When she left for at 4 p.m. every afternoon, I would sit on the bus stop located directly in front of our apartment in the projects. I sat out for hours and sold dime bags of weed. It was easy money because our neighhor that lived next door was the weed man. He fronted me ounces of weed to sell for him for $100 per ounces. After I sold each ounce he would front me double. I sold 2 ounces he gave me 4. After a few weeks I had saved enough money to buy my own 2 ounces. I had 2 ounces of weed and $200. I was 14 and I thought I was Pablo Escobar. However I also went to school with kids my age that came from good homes and had parents that were stable. Other than selling weed and being poor, the only difference I ever saw was that all of my friends that had both parents seemed to have much more than us kids from the projects.
My mom walked into my room one night and caught me counting money that I had hidden in my shoebox. I had a half ounce of weed and some plastic bags in another box next to it. All I could do was look up at her bewildered face as she stared down at me on that floor. "Where did you get that?" , she asked in a calm but frustrated voice. I couldn't talk. I tried to talk. My mouth was moving but nothing came out. I looked down at the ground and when I looked up she had her eyes closed. "How much money is that?" ,she asked me calmly as a single tear fell down her cheek. I mubled under my breath, "It's $500". After a long pause she explained to me that we were about to be evicted and the lights would be cut off and she didn't have the money to pay either.
I was 14 years old. I was saving to buy school clothes for my first year of high school and I was proud of myself. But nothing compared to the pride I felt when I handed my mother that money. I knew then that the odds would be against me.
My mom walked into my room one night and caught me counting money that I had hidden in my shoebox. I had a half ounce of weed and some plastic bags in another box next to it. All I could do was look up at her bewildered face as she stared down at me on that floor. "Where did you get that?" , she asked in a calm but frustrated voice. I couldn't talk. I tried to talk. My mouth was moving but nothing came out. I looked down at the ground and when I looked up she had her eyes closed. "How much money is that?" ,she asked me calmly as a single tear fell down her cheek. I mubled under my breath, "It's $500". After a long pause she explained to me that we were about to be evicted and the lights would be cut off and she didn't have the money to pay either.
I was 14 years old. I was saving to buy school clothes for my first year of high school and I was proud of myself. But nothing compared to the pride I felt when I handed my mother that money. I knew then that the odds would be against me.
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