Courtney used HONY site for inspiration instead of The Burning House
SEE 5/17 POST OF THE DESCRIPTION OF ‘THE BURNING HOUSE JOURNALS' http://www.humansofnewyork.com/post/137637977411/im-trying-to-find-the-thing-that-motivates-me-to “It’s time to get up sweetheart” Her voice like honey. The golden, yellow sun peaks through the crack in my blinds. It is time for New York to awaken. 7:30 a.m. The whispers of the court ring clear in my ear drum. 7:35 a.m. My teeth brushed, Nikes laced, ball in hand I walk out the door waving goodbye to my mother.”You gonna go ‘nd get my house?” “You bet.” The door closes quietly behind me. My jacket shields me from the cool city air as I open the gate through the chain linked fence that borders the basketball court. 7:45 a.m. I pound the ball against the cement, bouncing it from one hand to the other. Starting slowly then gradually getting faster until there is nothing but an orange blur. In front of my knees, behind my back, between my knees; I bounce the ball keeping my chin up. I start to think about everything she has done for me and how I am going to repay her. The long nights, back breaking work, crazy bosses, and all the pain she hid from me but didn’t know I could see. 8:15 a.m. Standing in front of the basket I bring the ball up to one hand. My elbow bends to a 90 degree angle with the ball placed on my finger tips. I take a little jump and let the ball fly. Staring at the back of the rim the ball swooshes through the net. I do this again and again and again. There is no feeling like the feeling of watching the ball go cleanly through the net. Can I make her dream come true? This question runs circles in my mind. Will I be able to get her that house with different levels?I push myself harder. Letting the ball fly from farther and farther distances. My imaginary opponent is challenging me in ways that I have never been challenged before. He’s better than I am yet, I can always win. He stands there like a dead end. What is it like to hit a dead end? Mom’s hit dead ends before, and it’s my job to make sure that never happens again. 10:30 a.m. As I start home my mind begins to wander. It wanders to the court, to the lights, to that book I still have to read, to my goals, to my chances, and to my reasons. Why do we do this? Why do we put ourselves through all this work when everything else in our lives is in pieces? Everything she does is for me. So that maybe one day I can go to college, have a better life. So then maybe one day I can accomplish her dream. Her dream of “having a house where everyone lives on different floors.”
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