I exceed every possibility before I ask for help because I hate to give up.
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Ordinary Night
Anthony Cortez
I sat at my kitchen table late one Sunday night. I was typing my final chapter for an essay for U.S. History. The house was silent just as I like it when I’m writing. My thoughts and ideas were flowing freely onto paper without much difficulty.
The house phone rang loud enough for all to hear. I didn’t move a muscle for I thought my sister or grandmother would answer the phone since they were nearer. I suddenly felt a horrid feeling. I stood and walked to the phone, not wanting to make much noise. When I picked up the receiver’s cold exterior sent a strange sensation down my spine.
“Hello,” I said in a curious voice.
“Anthony, it’s grandmamma,” she spoke in a slow, soft voice.
She had never called at such a late hour just talk, and I wondered what was wrong.
“You may want to sit. What I’m about to say is probably going to hurt.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Your Uncle Danny passed away this morning,” she said in a shaky, raspy voice.
I dropped the phone, placed my head in my hands. I tasted the saltiness of my tears.
“Anthony, Anthony, are you there?” she asked.
I slowly picked up the phone, barely able to place it against my ear. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said and hung up before I could hear her response.
I sat with my head in my hands for maybe an hour or two. I don’t remember. I cried and cried. I could not believe my uncle was gone. I would never lay eyes on him again. When I forced myself to stand, I walked to my room in darkness, unable to see the path that lay before me. Once in my room I plopped onto my bed.
When my eyes closed, all I could see was Danny’s handsome face. His caramel skin tone, soft, light brown eyes and shaggy black hair. His smile and eyes taking me back to all the fond memories we shared. They raced through my mind like a movie.
I remember when I was about five years old. He would take me to a small liquor store with whitewashed walls and old rusted bars on all the windows. I was able to get anything I wanted. I felt special and engulfed in pleasure every time he chose me out of all my cousins who begged him to take them to the store.
Whenever I was feeling sad, he would buy me a box of “Pop Pop Poppers,” small bundles of rocks that contain silver fulminate. They made a loud popping noise when thrown against the ground. We would throw handfuls of them, laughing together.
He taught me to live in the moment. What matters most is what is happening in this moment. I shouldn’t worry about yesterday because that was past. Tomorrow is a mystery, and you can always improve yesterday. I live my life as if today is my last. I put one hundred percent into any task I embark upon. I exceed every possibility before I ask for help because I hate to give up. When I do, I feel as if I am giving up on myself.
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