Remembering what life was like growing up in Lakeview, San Francisco. My street had a barbershop, a church, and a corner store, some mini cafes and a place that you could catch cable cars. Aside from that I had one friend I will never be able to forget. His name was José and he was my very best, best friend. He lived four houses down from me and we were always together. I remember going into José’s families house once, Spanish was flying everywhere and the house look tattered, worn out, like it should’ve been abandoned. I was always taught to be grateful for what I have because José had nothing but his family. Which I think is the most important thing to have in a time of struggle.
José and I were inseparable we would laugh together, talk, drive in my motorized 4 wheeler Barbie car and pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend. We always said we were going to be married when we grow up and move away somewhere beautiful, since the neighborhood we grew up in wasn’t so great.
The neighborhood changed as time went by, less African Americans, and Hispanics but more Asians. Well now that I think about it San Francisco has changed racially and socially, in good ways and bad.
And soon enough I moved away. At the time I was upset because my whole community, my block, my hood, my street, was like my family. I knew I was never going to see José again. After I moved away I knew that you couldn’t hang onto things forever let alone friends. I am still sad and curious, I want to know where he is, and how he’s doing but I never found out because José vanished right after I did, I have no trace of him whatsoever, I’ve asked neighbors what happened to him and his family but they said they didn’t know. All I hope now is that in the future I will be-able to let go because José my very dear friend is long gone. I believe hanging onto friends when they are already gone only causes more heartaches. Finally letting go is what I believe in. Finally letting go…