I step out of the yellow cab,
The smell of pizza wafts through my nostrils.
I stretch my neck
As my eyes try to reach the top of the skyscrapers.
How do they get up there?
It’s so tall!
Daddy’s hard calloused hands
Grab my itty bitty ones
As we walk through the crowded streets
Of New York City.
I try to keep up with Daddy’s long strides
As we cross the street
And step into line with other tall people.
Why is everything so big here?
I look at the building and see a poster of
The Lion King.
I can’t wait to see it!
The man behind me takes out
I cough as he blows it in my direction.
Daddy pushes me in front of himself
So he can block the smoke.
It smells really icky,
I scrunch my nose in disgust.
The line finally moves
And we end up at the doors
Where a man in a red jacket stands.
Daddy gives the man our tickets,
Then we step through the doors.
I hold Daddy’s hand
As we walk down red-carpeted stairs to our seats.
We sit down near the front and I look around.
The red cushioned chairs are made for fat people,
But Daddy seems to fit fine and he’s not fat.
The stage has a black floor and a big red curtain hangs above.
A lady with big yellow hair and too much perfume sits next to me.
The lights go off and I grab Daddy’s hand,
I’m scared of the dark.
He squeezes it reassuringly as the audience hushes.
The curtains open slowly as music starts.
“Hakuna Matata, what a wonderful phrase.
It means no worries for the rest of your days.”
I bounce in my seat, smiling big,
To the beat of my favorite song.
Simba goes on stage along with his friend Nala.
I know that there’s a man and a lady
Underneath those costumes,
But they seem so real.
I want to be just like them
On stage playing my favorite movie.
That’s my big city dream.
Continue reading Big City Dreams.