As I struggled to come out the front door, the doc yelled ” Push”. “Breathe, breathe”, my dad reassured mom after every scream. Couldn’t see, yet mucus and juice riddled my body. Don’t ever go to our families water park party. Either we’d have my funny uncle, a doctor, pushing us out the door at 9:00 am or yelling push to scare us out. Funny uncle’s just aren’t that funny after high school. “Gamgam”, that’s what I called my mom, would scream going down the water rides, so my dad would reassure her safety. Hated being stuck with the kids, who’d spill juice and snot on me. I’m regressing from the point. Jargon was my native as a kid. Kind of a big thing for me then around around nine, ten years old. Learning how to speak was a challenge. Mine you that my mom never learned how to read. Nothing further from a illiterate became the topic of how my uncle would describe me. Older than her brother, my mom made sure that my uncle had an education though. ” Pace yourself, just keep going”, (my Mother). Quite the woman, I had thought of her to be. Ready and willing my father would always take me and my siblings to tutoring class. So as long as I’ve been alive, I’ve always knew that I’ll have my family. Tate-Brown. Unity is our badge of honor. Vicious ass whooping for any sibling that chose not to follow. Well, I guess it’s just a dictatorship as a child. Xanax. Young and obedient is what they taught me, so when I got older i could be free with a choice. Zebras are black and white, that last thing is a choice to get done sorry, P.J.