In Salem, it was just me and my mom. We lived in a one bedroom apartment that I used while my mom had the pull-out sofa. We would go to a cafe, I would order hot chocolate, we’d shop. ‘The Magic Parlor’ was a shop in Salem that sold trinkets, religious stuff, and human body parts. There was this eerie worker who looked out of ‘The Matrix’ and I would walk in the back to look at a jar with a mysterious mass inside of it, labeled (confirmed by the worker) that it was a chunk of human brain. I obviously didn't plan on buying it, instead something I bought were ‘Wolf Pack Bang-Snaps’, that was a tiny firework and when you threw it on the ground it would explode. I walked with my mom, just throwing them everywhere. I remember these fireworks, the streets I would walk with my mom, the shops, the commons saltwater smell I hated, how perfect and small my world was, and how much I wish I could preserve those memories. I miss when I had my mothers undivided attention. 
Years later, I have a very large, heavily blended and complicated family. I accept them, how I once lived a life where my world revolved around one person, now dozens. Being American is about accepting change, even when it's not what you once originally had. Accepting the different people that walk in and out of your life, and different things for progress, for the better.

– D

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