Those Neighbors Were Probably Thrilled

I’m twelve years old and our family decides to move. I’m excited since we plan to move from a condo to a real house. We look around with a realtor, and my dad narrows it down to two houses.

Dad: “Which one do you think?”

Me: “I think the first house was better! It had a big backyard, huge rooms, and a fireplace!”

Mom: “But there were black people.”

Dad: “I don’t know, you decide.”

Mom picked the other house. I was disappointed since this house was dowdy, obviously old, and not in good shape. It had a back yard, but it was a severe slope, covered in poison ivy bushes, so we couldn’t play. We ALL had a miserable time there for fifteen years, all because Mom was racist. I’m glad now as an adult I can live where I want!