MARGAUX
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I remembered asking the then four-year-old Mikee.
He had chocolate all over him and I was helping him wash off the ones in his hands. He giggled, watching the bubbles made by the soap.
"Papa." He replied, giggling once more.
"Papa? You want to be like him when you grow up?" Mikee nodded.
"Bang bang!" He chirped enthusiastically.
That was a memory I couldn't forget. Mikee was only four and yet he was already exposed to guns. Literal guns and not just the toy-made ones nor the ones shown on tv.
He was able to witness a real one.
My mother almost had a mini heart attack when she learned of that. All the possibilities of it going south came to her mind.
The wind flipped my hair. I could feel its gentle caress as I threw my free hands at the sides. I wanted to savor this freedom.
