Three Decembers and a June
by Randy Chavez
My grandma passed
I remember at the time I was playing MW2. My family and I were planning to leave for Mexico that night to visit her.
We did get to see her. But she was inside of her coffin.
That same December day was when I started to drink and hang with the wrong crowd.
I was ten years old.
My dad’s birthday, Christmas, my grandpa’s birthday. All fall on the same day.
I am told that my aunt went inside to give my grandpa his medicine.
“Call the doctor,” I heard her scream. “He is not responding.”
My grandpa died on his birthday.
I drank three bottles of tequila.
Shot after shot.
June came around and my cousin introduced me to his AK-47.
Soon, I had held A’s, .45’s, .16’s.
Just name it. I shot it.
I remember getting shot at. But I never got hit.
Some dudes screwed up.
My cousin sent people after them. But the dudes were never found. They left their house. For good.
I had witnessed drug deals. Big deals. Not $15 dollar deals.
In Mexico I carried my own strap because there are some snakes that would try to take my place. With my strap, I get respect and all I look for is respect. If you disrespect me I have this one person who will send people after you.
My family always wanted the best for me.
My parents always tell me and beg me to graduate.
But I don’t know if one day I will get shot in Mexico and not come back to LA. At least, not come back alive.
I promised myself I will stop drinking and hanging out with the wrong crowd.
I promised myself I will graduate in 2016 and make my family happy.
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