22 Star, Northside

Black canvas sneakers, one last star shines bright at dawn. Yellow creeps, infiltrating blue and darker shades of blue. His hairline recedes and there is a slight balding patch on top, but otherwise he seems exactly the same: light, jovial, a good friend. I have many friends named Sarah and I'm not sure which one was in my dream: just the letters. S. A. R. A. H. Whichever Sarah it was, I went to give her a hug and accidentally drooled on her white-colored hoody. It was pretty gross, actually. When I pulled away the string of drool stayed strong: one end connected to her shoulder, the other connected to my bottom lip. She said something. I apologized. I really have to stop doing that. Her brother laughed, and we all kind of thought it was funny. You know in dreams where you can't control what happens. But this time I think I was drooling on my pillow and the dream infiltrated my reality. Or reality my dream. Now the yellow is indistiguishable from the white, and most of the blue right in front, facing east, is above my view. That means it's time to move on and get ready for school.

I'm going to 22 today, Northside. But I'll probably wear my fancy shoes instead. Hector told me that his son would be there, at the school near the bridge. I'm not sure if we're talking about the same place. I guess I'll find out. He said the sidewalk curves a bit and then in front of the school there is a drop where two pieces of concrete have shifted. I told him I would look out for it because I think he was worried that I'd fall. Especially in my fancy shoes. I didn't want to ask him if he was nervous or concerned because the look on his face already half-conveyed those feelings. I didn't want to make him self-conscious or more worried by pointing it out so we just stood there for a few minutes, silent.

Hector's son goes to 22. He has very light skin, as if he had never been outdoors in his 7 years of life. I would not even know he was Hispanic had it not been for his name: Rodrigo Alvarez. He is shy and has to learn to speak up for himself, but he's still just a small boy. He does the minimum anyway and gives you just enough information to receive help. You get the feeling that he knows what he needs and he expresses it halfway. He is a community builder, holding back the other half, waiting for you to step in. And he genuinely accepts and needs the help. He's still just a small boy. He has bluish grey eyes and no freckles. All of his adult teeth are in, neatly lined up as they should be, though not perfect, and I only really saw them once. I saw his bottom teeth when he spoke words with e sounds like "me" and "he" and "she" and the top ones when he said "hi" or "I" or "bye."