Black Santa

Diamond Davis

  When it was just five who lived in brick townhouse on Jack street. There was me and my two

siblings but we weren’t much important it was all about the two powerhouse adults. One being my mother, who had long black wavy hair, bhindi markings, the shape of a circle sticker always relaxing in the mid of her forehead. Then, my father who was bald headed and had a thick, mahogany brown beard we called him the black Santa.

  When it was just five seconds left of the game I remembered biting my nails and consistently

turning my head to the billboard clock. Ryan had a pool of sweat down his face as he was running offense. He dribbled the ball past player number eleven did a crossover dribble on the left-hand side of the court, pump fake causing the defender to lose balance. Made a leap for a layup and SWISH! Ryan made the winning shot as the crowd roared and cheered his name!

  When it was just five fingers and five toes. I was stunned to find on the news that it's possible

others would have more. Extending from their index finger another nail would gradually form trying to be a part of the group. My eyes wide as an owl at night shocked from the visuals at sight.

  When it was just five wobbly wooden stools left in musical chairs at Sidney’s 7th birthday party,

I was walking slowly beat by beat to the base of the music waiting for the sudden silence to rush to my stool to gain my victory. I touch each wooden seat with my sticky gooey hands as I go around. I hear parents laughing and cameras brightly flashing of our cute chocolate Hershey stuff faces.

  When it was just five cents in my ripped jean pockets, but the ice cream man said I needed 85

more if I wanted to get the rocket ship. The strawberry red on top, lemonade tartness in the middle, and blue raspberry on the end was racing through my mind. The blast of flavors cooling on my taste buds on a blazing summer day was I desired.

  When it was just five cups and now I’m down to my last one. It was a race to the finish of who

could drink their Hennessey first. I took my last red plastic full of dark bourbon whiskey flavor and jugged it down my throat. BAM as I slammed the cup down on the glossy wooden table for I had won against my sloppy drunk opponent.

  When it was just five crispy golden-brown chocolate chip cookies, I knew Santa and his elves

would enjoy the cocoa Hershey scented treats. I decided to peak through the rusty wooden doors with one eyeball through the doorway, just to find out my dad was the true jolly old man.