Let me start on the day of my shooting - part 1

It was summer time, the year was 1985 and I was five years old.  I was an energetic, happy, and optimistic kindergarten graduate.  My cousin Omar had spent the night with my brother Robert.  I despised those rough playful boys and wanted to go with my sister Kim to babysit the Smith kids.  “Please, please mom, let me go with Kim.  I promise to be good.”  My mom knew Omar and I fought all the time, so she agreed I could go with Kim to babysit.  There it is, the baby of the family’s charm, got my way again…Sharina Finley, you are good!  It seemed like a perfect sunny day, my mom was at work, my dad was with the boys, and I was on my way to the Smith’s with my sister.

The sun was shining as we walked out of the house and down our drive way.  I remember kicking the innocent rocks as they lay in my path.  When we reached our dirt road to begin the long haul uphill, I remember skipping to the tune of the Flintstones in my head.  Yabba Dabba Doo, I loved that show.  I know Kim was probably annoyed, not only did she have to go to work but she had to bring along her baby sister.  I remember the mailboxes looking so tall like giants when I was going up that hill of endless footsteps.  When you almost reach the top of the hill, the graveled road slowly turned in to pavement.  I loved the feeling on my feet of hot pavement in the summer.  It was kind of like playing hot potato.  It was so early in the morning there were no neighborhood kids out looking to play.

When we arrived at the Smith house, my sister needed to get the kids ready for the day.  So I ask if I could watch some cartoons on the television and plopped myself down on the couch.  The roughness of the brown cloth rubbed my knuckles to say good morning. My sister proceeded to the back to run the bath water for Leslie, the little sister of Chris.  I was deep in to my show when I heard Chris say something.  I turned to the left and there he was holding a gun and pointing at me.  “Run or I am going to shoot you”.  Even though I was 5, I didn’t hesitate, I ran.

TO BE CONTINUED...........