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Boy Bands Used to Be all the Rage
You might’ve been hurt, babe, but you’re my fire
It’s hard to adapt to change when you’re a kid. It makes it further difficult when your parents are always on the move. In the early 00s, I adapted to moving, as my parents were often traveling. My folks have toured all of southern California before I could walk. I don’t understand why my folks traveled so much. Perhaps my mother wasn’t content with her living arrangements.
That must be the reason she has a moving fever. Even now, my mother gets urges to move. Who knows where my folks would end up next? Europe sounds nice.
Regardless, besides my parents being on a constant move, they both worked, leaving me under the watchful eye of relatives. I can’t explain how many houses I stayed at as a kid. The continuous house hopping felt as if I was a traveling circus. At each household, I would perform my trick of watching TV, playing Video Games, and listening to music.
It was a blessing when my relatives didn’t parade me down the street. All I wanted was time to appreciate my surroundings. It’s a good thing I had plenty of space to admire my grandmother’s house from my dad’s side. At her home, I have fond memories of eating and eating. My grandmother always served me a plate of beans with Queso Fresco on top. After I helped myself to…
