Pieces of Me

Langston Hughes wrote a poem called, "A Dream Deferred", and it goes: What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode? I smile at this because it was the very first thing introduced to me when I was taking English Composition II at The College of Westchester almost seven years ago (My god its been a long time).  The question was, "What is a dream deferred?" and now as I have gained not only more insight into life itself and experiences, I gained wisdom and knowledge.  So, what is a dream deferred to you? When I was in my late teen and early twenties, I had no idea what the future would put me through.  All I knew was, I am a hard of hearing individual who kicks ass in academics and is always on top of things.  However, that view changed when m

It was ten years ago, I was a senior in high school.  The night before, I dreamt my grandmother's house and "the mansion" a few houses down from my grandmother's house had a gas explosion.  First my grandmother's house blew up and then within a few minutes the mansion gave off the second explosion.  That morning, on 9/11, I was very quiet.  My mother, who I usually didn't see in the early morning on a school day was awake and walking around the downstairs level of her house.  We just looked at each other, we did not speak one word, but there was an unusual feeling between us, an alertness as to something big is coming.  I walked out the door, didn't say goodbye yet this feeling I had was a very uneasy one.  I looked out to the Hudson River, there was something different about how the Hudson looked that morning, almost eerie. I was just half way through my morning and classes.  Then someone was shouting out in the hall, that the one of the twin towers h