It was the morning of April 20, 1969. I woke up feeling a strange scent in the air. The feeling that something crazy was about to happen that day. This feeling made me feel alive that day. I remember every day before the incident had felt dull and they all blurred together. It was the middle of spring in Colorado. Birds chirped and the sun gleaned through the small window cracks in my run-down apartment. Life was tough for me growing up in the '60s as a person of color in America. Working day and night to provide for me was the goal and challenge of the day. Seemingly doing anything I could just to pay rent. I hardly ever saw anyone work as hard as I did. At times I wondered if moving to Colorado was the best decision for me. It was hard to leave the family I loved so much but I feel I need to make a name for myself. I needed to prove my worth. Especially that morning. Waking up early for the same dull factory job was a good way to start the day. Living alone in that tiny apartment left no space for those crowded and gloomy thoughts. The vivid memories of a child experiencing street violence on a daily recurrence and seeing my pops shot would creep into my thoughts. Every. Single. Day. It felt like a miracle to be able to sleep and to be able to get out of the apartment that had darkened and drained my mind.  Colorado was a fresh start. New city. New people. I wanted to start a new life. One apart from the burden and baggage that was heavily strapped to my back. After the usual morning routine, I felt excited to take on that day. I felt a new challenge would be presented. Something that might finally bring me happiness. A sigh of relief hit me when I finally realized what April 20th was. The day that I would finally see my hard work pay off. The day that I would feel would help my trauma of the past. The store opening was the proudest moment that I have had of myself. I finally felt fulfilled. I hung that picture up by my bed to help fight off the demons that summoned from the darkest parts of my mind. It allowed me to remember that amazing feeling I felt once I made a name for myself. Others called it a great achievement for a person of color to open up a store. I think it even made the newspaper that day. Working in the store every day brought me an escape and allowed me to finally feel safe and settled into my new lifestyle. No more running around and working as much as I could. No more dreading my time at the apartment. I don't even think I could call it my home before the opening of the store. Now I have a place to call my own. A place to relieve thoughts of the past and replace them with new more amazing memories. 

I stylishly walk up to him. His biggest day seemingly coming true. He notices me. His father. I walk up to him pleading for his assistance. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks. 

“I came to visit you on your proudest day.” 

I quickly grasp him by the arm to take him on a journey he will never forget. We appear in the streets of his home in Alabama. His mother stands next to him with a look of fear on her face. The young boy looks up to her confused and unsure of what is going on around him. 

She yells at him, “honey go back inside this is not a sight that you need to see.”

He hurries back inside to find his father waiting once again asking for his help. This time, the father is bleeding as if he has been cut from a punch to the face. 

“Help me!” The father screams.

Standing there lifeless, the boy has no idea what to do. He is frozen in time and space because he is only a kid. No kid needs to see this, yet the violence still unfolds in front of him.  The father hurries outside and the kid tentatively follows right behind. 

“Please don’t hurt my family, they did not do any harm.” The father pleaded.

A distanced voice shouts, “Get rid of him the cops are already on the way.”

The mother cries out in agony as she feels helpless as she watches what is about to unfold. The boy has also entered the lawn and runs to her mother now scared from the screaming and seeing his mother in tears. The scene shifts yet again and the kid is screaming and crying at the aftermath of what was about to happen. The cops had arrived and were questioning the crying mother. The boy screams as he sees the lifeless father laying on the ground. 

The scene shifts in a blur and he can only hear the words why didn’t you help. Dwelling on this thought that he could have done anything to help his father not get caught in the fire of guns from gang violence. 

As he awakes from the vivid dream, he still sees a silhouette of me on the wall. His father. It has been harder to fight through his mind and appear in his dreams and within his time alone now that he has opened his shop. 

“Why did you not help me?” I ask.

I watch as he lays there stunned and confused. He bursts into tears. 

“I tried pops. I really did.” He claims as he lays there. 

“Well I am still dead now aren't I?” I stammer. “I will always be her son. This burden that you feel will always be with you. I will always be here.” 

I can see the struggle behind his eyes as gets up to open his shop for the second day in a row. He looks happy but there is regret and pain behind that joy. He had nothing to do with my death but feels that it is all his fault. He has no idea what was going on in my business since he was just a child. 

As he opens his store yet again, he takes a deep breath and sigh of relief that he has escaped his demons that float in his apartment and mind for the time being.