Chapter 2: In Your Neighborhood The first home I lived in that I remember the best was made by family. My father and some uncles and friends built my first home. It wasn’t the prettiest house at all, made of cement bricks. I basically looked like a huge rectangle with a roof. I lived in a small city(At the time I lived there, I don’t think it was a city) mainly of Mexicans and I guess that helped with everyone get along. I remember staying over the neighbors while waiting for my parents to get home, I also remember breaking the same neighbors window on accident playing baseball. My best friend at that time lived right across the street. My grandmother lived on the other side of the neighborhood aswell. Then we moved back and forth from there. I was always really close to my family. In Houston I was close to my mother’s side and in Mission I was close to my father’s side. I didn’t really have any close friend relationships. I do now though. News in my neighborhood didn’t really get around, because not everyone talked. In my neighborhood now though we’re pretty close with a lot of my neighbors. When my parents are either cutting the yard, watering the yard, or even just outside relaxing they talk to my neighbors. The main news that gets around are robberies that occur. We have a landscaper that lives next door that did our yard. So the news mainly gets around when everyone is outside at the same time. One time the people who lived next door left their hose on and it was just flowing, and my mom told them. The next day the neighbors gave my parents a wine bottle. Now they talk casually.