Golden_Streets

Golden Streets I always dreamed of America as a place with golden streets and golden opportunities, well I was right about the opportunity but the streets were far from golden. When papa was finally able to afford me and mamas fare for the boat ride to New York, I found out my beautiful picture of America was all wrong. I swear the letters papa wrote to mama and I in Sicily made this place seem like heaven. But when we pulled up to the dock I saw hell. The streets were full of winos and hookers, but seeing papa for the first time in four years made all that fade away. Papa owned a bakery off Main Street it was definitely on the rise it took a few years but the place was doing very well or so I thought. He was a rough looking man, my father, but a great man he should have been a saint. He was lucky to have my mother she was a saint, and a beautiful one at that. Walking that street even with its horrid smells and disgusting people seemed to be alright with me since I was with my parents. They loved papa, family, don, one, molasses, didn’t, bakery, about, started, run, father, man, just, job, way, ran, place, out, going, everyone, because, back, after, years, wasn’t, told, that’s, take, street, right, really, paid, now, new, mama