Cigarette innocence

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
Innocence in cigarette glow spied from above.

Submitted: November 10, 2011

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Submitted: November 10, 2011




  • One memory I have of growing up was when I was 8 years old and living in a suburb of Humble,TX.  I was in my room on the second floor and it was around 3 or 4pm on a weekday.  I must have been doing my homework because I was at my desk which faced a window where I would look out and daydream. I looked down and saw my neighbor Jeff who was your typical troubled teenager.  I don’t know what his family situation was like but he was probably 15 or 16 at the time.  He was always in fights or doing drugs at least was the rumors that flew in a small community.  But he was always sweet to me and assured me if anybody ever messed with me to tell him.  He was always a gentleman to my parents.  As a smoker now it’s strange how when I was a kid I was so anti-smoking.  I was so sensitive to it.  I would hide my Mom’s cigarettes from her. (Well I would find where she was hiding them from us and then hide them from her) I would always ask my brother if he smoked just so I could have the relief of knowing he didn’t.  he always reassured me that he didn’t and I always believed him and felt better.  And he was telling the truth because he never did and still doesn’t.  I never thought that the little kid who would get sad when he found out someone he knew or loved smoked would end up having an affair with it later on.  I was scared of it but also fascinated by it.  When I looked out my bedroom window that day and saw Jeff talking with a friend on a bike in the middle of our safe and narrow street.  I couldn’t hear what they were talking about but It seemed like such a different world to me.  And that’s when I saw his friend give him a cigarette and light it up.  It was so shocking to me. Not in an outward manner but seeing it gave me an excited uneasy, maybe even guilty feeling.  It just seemed so bad to me.  Like my illusions of goodness were shattered and that not everyone was what they seemed.  Like it was my first experience of rebellion.  I also felt like I was witnessing something I shouldn’t be.  It’s so funny when you’re a kid because all they were doing was talking and smoking a cigarette. 

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