Grew Up Here Narrative

I Grew Up Here As a child, I moved around most of my childhood. From the violent city of Compton, California to the upper middle class of Los Angeles, California, Then later to Elk City, Oklahoma. Compton, my hometown, was not the “ideal” place to raise a child. Gangs were always posted on street corners with red bandanas, blue bandanas, or long white tee shirts. The men would be covered with tattoos and would stare you down as you were walking down the sidewalk. I remember kids playing with a broken fire hydrant as though it were a garden sprinkler. At the time I lived in a, white one story home with a huge lemon tree in the backyard. Our neighbors were always friendly. Sometimes the corn man would come with a bike horn, squeezing it as he went up and down the streets, trying to sell elotes, which is Mexican street corn and duros, which is a Mexican snack made of puffed wheat topped with chili and lime. The ice cream truck made his rounds also. Kids would often chase the ice cream truck on bikes or by foot, trying to get him to pull over just so they can get ice cream. Due to the violence Compton seems a little frightening, but there is so much love in that city, which most people overlook.

Where I lived it was quite peaceful. No violence, no loud noises, and no woman screaming at her baby daddy for not paying child support. My house was yellow with a burnt red roof with black doors and beautiful flowers surrounding the front and the right side of the house. I would always walk across the street to Mrs. Mary’s house to go play with all the dogs she took care of. My neighbors were the best. Although they were elderly, they were the nicest people I have ever come across. I used to think that maybe old people were much better friends than kids my