May 26, 2014

My smoky memories

My parents worked in a homeless shelter in Germany, and me and my family lived in one of the rooms in the homeless shelter. When people ask where I come from I can't say "I grew up in a homeless shelter", they'll imagine a boy born in poverty and struggle, my childhood was good. I went to a semi-private Christian school (I don't recommend it) and where I lived was anything but a slum.

To get in and out of the building people would have to walk through the central open-air area, which usually included about a dozen people standing and smoking cigarettes. Many of the men would say a word or two as I tried to sneak between the groups and the cigarette smoke, I'm pretty sure many of them had a mental illness or two.

I now work as a drive-through cashier in a fast-food store, and this includes meeting people, many of which who are smoking. So every time I can smell the smoke, it reminds me of growing up, strange thing to be nostalgic for.