Gangsters and Blizzards

Enter. A little black man appearing to be 7 years of age wearing a Lakers flatbrim snap-back along with a diamond stud.

I dont know how you are supposed to react when you see that your previous foster brother who is now three years of age looks like a gangster. Thug life forever.

I couldnt believe how tall him and his sister are. I remember holding them as babies, they have been around our home a lot over the past five years, and now they are huge. She is up to my chest now at 5 years of age, I mean I am pretty average in size but having a 5 year old more than half my height.. it's a little disheartening.

And that was only the beginning. The storm began the next day and being snowed in seemed logical. The tang came out and snowcones were made from the ever drifting snow. Only to be followed by a 645 true wake up of pushing a car out of the gridlock of snow.

I forgot so much when I left. Not once did my snow dreams involve shoveling over and over again or pushing cars or being blinded by the whipping snow while running for a door. Nor they did involve my little babies turning into thugs. Life really has a way of reminding me what is real. And reality is that even blizzards dont mean actual days off in this land. And this land is my land. *chestpound* Peace.