Things Will Get Better & More Delicious

Waiting is everywhere in the world.

I wait for

the bus, the train,

my juice in the Dunkin’ Donuts,

for my iPod to charge, for my phone,

for Karina to talk, JJ to pull his pants up.

For my report card,

to buy clothes, to go shopping,

for my teacher to choose me when I raise my hand,

to go to recess,

for three o’clock, for my mother to come home from work,

for my sister to get out of my room,

for my sister to grow up and stop breaking my stuff.

For my dad to come home from trips to the D.R.

for my friends to get ready to go,

for me to finish school,

for my cousins to come for Christmas,

for the laundry in the basement to be done,

to fall asleep, for the sun to come out,

for summer break.

To be eighteen, to live in my own house,

to help my mom and my dad, to buy my mom and dad a beautiful

house,

forest green with flowers in front.

To live next to Obama,

to go to Hawaii, to travel the world,

for my mom and dad to buy a small dog

and name it Steph.

There was a time when I couldn’t wait for pizza. I was seven years old and watching TV when I saw people on a show eating pineapple pie. It had a lattice top and made me think of pizza because they are both round and begin with p. It made me desperate for my favorite pizza: pepperoni and cheese! Sitting on the couch, i imagined the pizza in my mouth tasting delicious. I could almost smell the spicy pepperoni. I could almost see the cheese strings dripping from the edges of the pizza and the little round pepperonis, red and chewy, sliding with the cheese into my mouth. While I imagined all that, I could hear my stomach growling making noise like wind blowing through trees.

I ran downstairs to my father who was in the kitchen cooking spaghetti. I asked him if I could go buy a pizza by myself. He said no, because I was too young to go alone.

I didn’t think it was fair for him to not let me go by myself if he wouldn’t go. I knew it would take me five minutes to walk there and another six minutes to buy the pizza and come back. I had done that walk with my mom a lot and I knew where it was.

I think my dad wouldn’t let me go because I would’ve had to cross a street by myself which was dangerous. But I was older now and knew how to be safe. I got mad and sad at the same time. I went back to watching TV and then to my bed. About thirty minutes later, my dad called up to me and said we could go to the pizza store now. I jumped around like a kangaroo, I was so excited. We walked there and I was running ahead of him and happy, but when it was time to cross the street I had to stop and hold his hand.

I finally got my pizza. It was just how I imagined it, but a rectangle. It was fabulous.

The pepperoni and cheese smelled spicy.

The pizza was so hot, like a jalapeno pepper,

I had to fan my mouth for it to cool off.

The crust was cold, puffy, and hard to chew, just the way I like it!

When I was done eating I was full,

Like a balloon about to pop.

Life is about waiting. But it was worth the wait that day for the pizza. It taught me to be patient in life and that it can be okay to wait for some things.




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Things Will Get Better & More Delicious

In this collection of "memoirs remixed," 7th graders from the Boston Teachers Union school explore stories from their lives in forms of all shapes and sizes, from a conversation between the United States and the Dominican Republic to a 7th grade survival guide. Each memoir is accompanied by student artwork.

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