Hillside

Where did I live when I was 12? Hillside baby!!! You know it!

I still smile when I think of my childhood home. It was truly the best of times and the worst of times.

Hillside Terrace was an apartment complex in the heart of Dallas. You see, Dallas is broken up into north, south, east, west, and some other places like Oak Cliff and Arlington Park which are really just Dallas but it makes them feel special and set a part to have those names. I lived, grew up and experienced life in the heart of Dallas. It’s currently known as the medical district.

Hillside. This was the place where the term, “move you lose it’s the Hillside rules” was birthed. It was neighbors. It was friends. It was summers swimming in the pools. It was walking to school together. I rode the bus all over Dallas. My brothers and I were “free range” kids. It was family. I mean the literally and figuratively. Various cousins lived there throughout the years. Friends became so close we felt like relatives.

This was the place where my brothers learned to break dance on the top of the table they broke while fighting. This was the place where my cousin fell off of a balcony. Talk about a miracle. This was where I had my first real fight. His name was Pookie. I held my own. This was also the place of my first kiss. He leaned in and barely brushed my lips then ran like he was trying to win an Olympic medal. I’ll keep his name to myself.

I can’t limit my memories to the age of 12. They all swirl around in my head. We lived there for about ten years. In the end it went from a glorious place to roam and feel free to a place I feared. The drug trade pushed us out or propelled us on depending on how you view things.

Hillside was some of the best times of my life.

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9 thoughts on “Hillside

  1. twenty7zero3 says:

    Wonderful post!

  2. K E Garland says:

    Great description…my favorite part is the paragraph where you describe your brothers break dancing on top of the table. Eek!

    • tolive4u says:

      I can see the table clearly and still hear the tall tale they told our mother about how the table ended up broken. That table top lead to a break dance revolution in our apartment complex.

  3. Great post. Really like the perspective of “being pushed out or propelled”.

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