Black Santa

Diamond Davis


When it was just five who lived in brick townhouse on Jack street. There was me and my two

siblings but we weren’t much important it was all about the two powerhouse adults. One
being my mother, who had long black wavy hair, bhindi markings, the shape of a circle
sticker always relaxing in the mid of her forehead. Then, my father who was bald headed
and had a thick, mahogany brown beard we called him the black Santa.


When it was just five seconds left of the game I remembered biting my nails and consistently

turning my head to the billboard clock. Ryan had a pool of sweat down his face as
he was running offense. He dribbled the ball past player number eleven did a crossover
dribble on the left-hand side of the court, pump fake causing the defender to lose balance.
Made a leap for a layup and SWISH! Ryan made the winning shot as the crowd roared
and cheered his name!


When it was just five fingers and five toes. I was stunned to find on the news that it’s possible

others would have more. Extending from their index finger another nail would gradually
form trying to be a part of the group. My eyes wide as an owl at night shocked from the
visuals at sight.


When it was just five wobbly wooden stools left in musical chairs at Sidney’s 7th birthday party,

I was walking slowly beat by beat to the base of the music waiting for the sudden silence
to rush to my stool to gain my victory. I touch each wooden seat with my sticky gooey
hands as I go around. I hear parents laughing and cameras brightly flashing of our cute
chocolate Hershey stuff faces.


When it was just five cents in my ripped jean pockets, but the ice cream man said I needed 85

more if I wanted to get the rocket ship. The strawberry red on top, lemonade tartness in
the middle, and blue raspberry on the end was racing through my mind. The blast of
flavors cooling on my taste buds on a blazing summer day was I desired.


When it was just five cups and now I’m down to my last one. It was a race to the finish of who

could drink their Hennessey first. I took my last red plastic full of dark bourbon whiskey
flavor and jugged it down my throat. BAM as I slammed the cup down on the glossy
wooden table for I had won against my sloppy drunk opponent.


When it was just five crispy golden-brown chocolate chip cookies, I knew Santa and his elves

would enjoy the cocoa Hershey scented treats. I decided to peak through the rusty
wooden doors with one eyeball through the doorway, just to find out my dad was the true
jolly old man.

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