Little Girl Plus One

Upon first look, my neighborhood is not very nice to look at.  If you were driving by, you might even lock your car doors out of fear of potential violence.  You wouldn't be wrong to be afraid.  It definitely goes down over here—assaults, armed robberies, narcotics, prostitution—we’ve got it all.  But the poverty and violence of east Dayton is only part of the story.  

The Historic Inner East is an old-school style neighborhood.  Friends and neighbors sit outside with one another, socializing and watching each other’s kids.  Kids here play outside until the street lights come on.  Unlike many suburban kids who spend countless hours inside the house playing on smart phones, computers, and Xbox, these kids-- who have little to no access to technology outside of the classroom-- actually still play outside. While I hate that these kids have insufficient access to the technology necessary for a modern education, I like watching these little knuckleheads play.  It reminds me of my own childhood in the ‘80s where kids came home from school and went outside to play until dinner time.  It’s decidedly old school here.  I mean, people around here still use pay phones.    The Little Girl who recently defended her mixed-race sister to one of the neighborhood girls regularly rides the bumpy streets and sidewalks on a pair of skates.  When is the last time you saw a kid using skates as her main mode of transportation?  She is amazing to watch as she navigates the bumpy streets and sidewalks of this neighborhood, occasionally swaying and wobbling, but never falling down.   

Skater Girl (as I am now calling her) brought her three-year-old sister to my house to meet Lulu and I. The little girl, K-Lee, (okay, so I’ve changed her name a bit, but it’s still a consonant then a hyphen followed by “Lee”)  immediately gave me that knowing look that many mixed kids do.  It’s the look of “you look like me!”   Skater Girl lovingly looked out for her sister as the little girl teetered around my porch, alternately chasing Lulu then swiftly running away.  The three-year-old was holding with two hands a large soda from McDonald’s where the girls ate breakfast this morning.  Skater Girl explained that it was the three-year-old’s fifth cup of soda this morning—it was only 11:30am.  I try not to judge the grandparents who are raising these girls the best way they know how.  “My mommy is in jail,” declared the three-year-old as her big sister shushed her and gently scolded her for sharing the family business.  Truth be told, Skater Girl has been stopping by my house a little more often that I would like, but after hearing about their mother’s incarceration, my heart softened a little bit.  She just needs someone to talk to, to ask her about her day. 

I suppose I can do that.