I remember one morning in February 2009 on my way to school my mother called, and she was crying. I wondered to myself, "Is she alright?" As she began to speak her voice cracked, and my heart dropped into my stomach. She blurted out, "Deja is dead." I began to laugh and asked if she was serious. She was silent for a moment. Then she said, "Yes, I'm serious. She died yesterday." The tears started to run down my face. I thought to myself, "She was only nine years old!" Seven days later was my cousin Deja's funeral and my sister's birthday. I did not go to school that day. I was not able to walk or even talk. I just sat there crying asking how God could take Deja away. I guess I will never know. (Khadijah Sandefur, 11th Grade)
No comments:
Post a Comment