Hospital Dad - - By: Shekyia Gibson 10th Grader

It was a Friday night and me and my cousin Shedonna were in my room with the music blasting. I was on the phone with a friend, looking in my closet for something to wear. While my cousin put on her clothes, we were ecstatic because it was Friday, and that meant it was teen night at the roller gardens. When suddenly my mom clicked in. That was unusual. I knew she was at work. So I clicked over, “Hello mommy”.

“ Kyia I need you to come to the hospital you can’t go skating”.

I was up upset, so I asked “ Why?”

“Your dads been shot and it looks bad”.

My whole world froze, and I couldn’t hear anything. All I could hear was your dads been shot, over and over again like a bad dream. Like time stopped and I was the only one in motion. Tears fell off my face, like bombs falling out of a helicopter at war. BOOM! BOOM! One on my shirt and the rest on my heart. My hollers of screams, like a whale trying to be heard in polluted water. My cousin’s strong embrace like she could feel my pain. Feel my pain pouring out of my eyes and into her heart.

Before I knew it, my mom walks in my room. We look at each other with sadness and fire in each others eyes. She grabs me and holds me close, we hold hands walking to the car. We know when we get there everything is going to change. Like from sunshine to a thunderstorm, I’m in the car and all I see is the street lights trough my tears.

We arrive at HCMC faster then I thought!! We walk in, the sound of my visitors pass being ripped from the paper. Rip through my stomach like a jagged knife. My walk to the elevator seems like my walk to hell. We at his room, I see the white board “ Lenfield Kendrick Jr. gun shot victim”.
VICTIM!!! Makes my flame up like gasoline on a grill.

I see him with tubes everywhere, my legs get weak, my throats getting dry, and my heads spinning. I can’t take it, I holler like I’m a wounded whale this time dying from the polluted icky murky water. His eyes open slightly, before I can say “Hi”.

My mom pulls me in the bathroom. Wipes my eyes and tells me I’m his golden girl, his miracle baby, and I have to be strong for him. I wipe my face once more, look in the mirror all I see is his face. Not really his face but him lying in that bed, I feel like it’s me looking back at him. This made me feel like we were connected, stronger. So strong I could feel his wounds. Not like I was shot but in my heart, my spirit, and my soul.

He opens his eyes and cracks a sick, but easing and wonderful smile. That soothes my on going fire. Opens his lips and says, “Hey mommy I been waiting on you all day”. I walk to hug him, his arms feel like a big flesh warm blanket of security. My tears dry up like the Sahara desert. My screams turn to weeps, then to soft sniffles. Like a baby whale is being born in clear, cool, deep claiming water. Being held for warmth by its mama. Lying on his chest. I felt like I was just swimming. Swimming deep in my hospital dad’s arms.