My Life Story (Part Two)
I left off by describing the divorce between my mom & biological father. This all happened around the time I was 8 years old. After the divorce was finalized, my mom and I moved back in with my grandparents in Corona, Queens.
My mom had a friend, J, that used to live across the street from us when we lived in Long Island. J had married a house painter from Tennessee and moved to be near his family. She thought it would be a good idea for us to come visit her the summer of ‘94 to get away. She wanted us to be able to go to a quiet, calm, slow-moving place and just be able to breathe. Well, obviously, we went.
Long story short, J was friends with T. T is D’s older sister. D and my mom started to date. After the summer was over, they had a long distance relationship until Elvis came to my mom in a dream. I won’t get into the specific, but it’s due to the King of Graceland that I ended up in Tennessee. There was some serious drama over whether or not my mom should have let me stay with my grandparents. My dad wasn’t in the picture at all anymore, but my aunt and godfather, thought it was wrong for me to go. There was a huge fight, hurt feelings, and an 8 year old caught in the middle.
We moved December 2, 1994. I was 8 and in Third Grade. Talk about a culture shock. You move a girl from Queens to Hornsby and there’s going to be an adjustment period. Even though the 2 cities are in the same country, doesn’t mean a thing. We moved into a house David rented from his boss.
THERE WERE COWS IN THE BACK YARD!
I wish I was joking. Real, living, breathing, steak and hamburger producing FREAKING COWS!
They moved me from the Lemon Ice King of Corona to Pooping COWS?!?
Being a crazy city kid, I decided to ask if it would be ok if I went to go see the cows. I don’t know if I pictured these cows like they were in some petting zoo and I could feed them from my hand. I have no idea what the hell I was thinking. Imagine if you will, an 8 year old Italian girl from New York prancing up a hill to go pet COWS!
It would have been no big deal. Turns out the COWS were hungry and I looked as appetizing as a filet mignon. As soon as the first cow spots me, 50 cows start moving towards me. Not too quickly, just a slow, ‘hey, I think she might feed us.’ The next 50 cows that joined in were not as polite as the first, and now I have about 100 cows chasing me looking for food.
I FELL DOWN A HILL WHILE BEING CHASED BY FUCKING COWS.
If you have never had to say those word, congratu-freaking-lations for you. I was lucky I didn’t fall in shit. Needless to say, I didn’t eat steak or hamburgers for about a year after the chasing incident.
Now, please excuse me while I go try to find a hamburger. I’m getting my revenge boys!
Part Three soon…I have to mentally recover from the thought of the COWS…and enjoy a hamburger.