Updated: Jul 18, 2020
I live on East 101st Street in New York City. Everyone around me is so scared because of the coronavirus or COVID-19. People are walking to the hospital, mostly old folks who are our neighbors, who sometimes we do not see when they come back.
Don’t know anyone in my family who has died, but my friends have relatives who did. On my cell, I go to websites where I read about lots of old people who were grandpas and grandmas of somebody. My granny lives with us, she’s lived in Harlem all of her life. My stepdad got the virus, and my mom moved into the front room with Granny, so he could be alone in the bed. She passed him food under the door and he got better in a few weeks. Guess he didn’t have a bad case.
Our place is real nasty, it stinks since we are all home eating all day. My little brothers cry at night when I’m trying to sleep in the bed across from them. I wish I could take them to their school. When we wake up in the mornings, sometimes I forget there is no school. It is hard to get any homework done and I am scared my grades are going to go down. But our teachers have been pretty nice about it since we have all been at home. Even though the school building is pretty old and like a dump, I really miss the place.
We usually get Burger King or McDonald’s a few times a week. Since the pandemic started in the city, I’ve been in the kitchen more than my usual. I learned to cook pasta. My brothers tell me it tastes like shit. I shouldn’t write like that, but “shit” is how I feel too. So that’s it.