Jo’miah Mona Jamison

Hi, my name is Jo’miah, and I am 12 years old. My birthday is December 2nd, and I am a Sagittarius. I like to read and write, because they put me in a relaxing, quiet, and calm mood. I am normally talkative, funny, and very independent. When I get older, I would love to be a chef or a cosmetologist.

LEAVING THE SOUTH

Brown box in the big white U-Haul truck. Visions going through my mind. People surrounding me. I don’t know whether to turn right or left. Men with baggy overalls and big brown boots carrying the TV. Mama talking to the real estate man. All my neighbors coming over saying goodbye.

March, march, boom are the sounds coming from the men carrying the boxes. “Come on now, get in this car. No time to waste!” Mama says, as tears come down my brown cheeks. I’m going to miss the people in my neighborhood. I don’t have many friends, but I will miss the few friends I do have. Savannah is the place I was born; I never thought I would leave. At least, not at this time. Boom, boom: the U-Haul truck doors close. Birds begin to chirp, dogs bark, and cats roam.

In the car I go. So, so many memories. I can’t say goodbye. I open my mom’s creaking car door, and it makes me remember when Mama got in her first accident in this car. There’s also the smell of greasy pizza and old air. There I am, sitting in the front seat as I click my seat belt and turn the air vent closer to me. The air in the car is blasting: swish. Old tunes on. I can smell the Savannah air going away.

The sky is getting bluer, and the moon is getting grayer, while the stars are glistening in the sky. Shhh: the shooting star shoots across the sky, wishing to come back to Savannah. Closing my eyes, I let the seat recline. The old tunes are playing, the air is blasting, and my mama is driving to Atlanta. I’m not so sure about this. I am going to have to start all over, find a different school, make new friends, and meet new people in my neighborhood.

Moving away is harder when the memories are hefty. I feel like my heart is just ripping apart. Mama said it was best for us to move, but she wouldn’t tell me why. I kept asking her, but she wouldn’t tell me, so I just left it alone.

We stop for gas, and she asks me if I want anything, and I say, “No, thank you.” I’m too sad to eat. I turn to look at Mama through the window as she pumps gas, and she doesn’t look so happy. I think she’s sad about moving, too. She finishes pumping gas and gets back in the car.

When I turn towards her, I panic. She has a bottle of beer; this isn’t like her. There’s something she’s hiding. She opens the beer and takes a sip. She looks at me and says, “Are you okay?”

I stumble on my words and say, “Yes, yes, yes.”

She asks again, “Are you sure?”

I again say, “Yes.”

She says, “Okay, sit back.”

I sit back, and she starts driving and drinking. I’m scared. I want to tell her to pull over and take a nap, but we continue driving, and Mama stops drinking. I get less nervous. I reach towards the back seat to grab a blanket, and I lie back and cover myself and close my eyes. Mama’s tunes are still playing, and the stars are still glistening. Two hours later, we arrive in Atlanta. There are so many lanes and a lot of chicken wing spots. The night is coming to an end.

I guess sometimes the place you are used to is not the place you belong.

FRIGHT NIGHT

The most frightening thing I have ever done was almost catch the kitchen on fire.

I was in the kitchen making noodles on the stove. Next to the stove was a pizza box that I didn’t think was close to the fire. As I stirred my noodles, I went back into my room to kill some time while I waited for them to finish. Five minutes later, I smelled something burning. I went into the kitchen, thinking it was my noodles, but it was the pizza box! I tried to put the big orange flames out with water, but they wouldn’t go out. I was in tears; I didn’t know what to do. So, I ran into my mother’s room and yelled, “Mama, the house is on fire!”

She ran out of bed and went into the kitchen. She threw water on the flames, too. Then she told me to find the fire extinguisher. I grabbed it out of the cabinet and gave it to her. She sprayed it until the fire was put out, and then she told me to go to my room.

I ran into my room and started to cry. I kept doubting myself; I thought I was a horrible child. I cried the whole night. A few minutes later, my mom came to talk to me, hugged me, and said everything was going to be okay. I learned that before you start cooking, make sure nothing is around the stove, and pay attention to every detail.