As children, my sister and I dreamt that our entire family lived on the same block.
We dreamt, as children, on late nights over chip dust and Capri Suns,
that we’d attended the same schools as our cousins, eat meals from our grandmothers, and go to church as a family.
We created blueprints for where each member would live:

Grandma in the middle to attract us with baked cheeses and fried foods.
Uncle Joe, second to last house with his blue blue truck.
Mr. Ray right next to him because they both are handymen.

We dreamt, as children, of taco nights on Fridays that turned into full weekend sleepovers,
birthday parties at Aunt Michelle’s house that transition into dance battles and Nutella crust evening.
We dreamt, as children, that our family would be together.
Desires to play on the colored chalk concrete pavement until the streetlights illuminated our foreheads in a mustard yellow hue.

As teenagers, we no longer dreamt.
We questioned;
What happened to cousin Dion?
Why can’t we go to church on Sunday?
When is the next time the family will be together?
We questioned, as teenagers, why our family had become divided. Why did birthdays consist of only a cake and a few friends?

As young adults, we no longer question.
We understand.

by. Philip G. Steverson