Sorry

When I lived in Arizona, I was around six years old. I was in 1st grade at the time. I lived in a town called Taylor. It looked like Silverton but bigger and more crowded and sadder. I lived on the street called Ranch Road. It looked very isolated. One time, I came back from school on the bus and knocked on the door, waiting for my mom to open the door. Still, when I looked through the window, my parents weren’t there, so I cried and cried. That was the first time I was home alone, so I was scared. I wanted them to be at the house. Still, my mom was cleaning a house with her friend, and my dad was working on a house. Still, I saw my cat come up to the balcony to comfort me, and I saw my neighbor’s cars, so I crossed the fence. My cat followed me until I got to their door, and when I knocked on their door, they opened it and saw that I was crying. They asked what was wrong, and I told them my parents were not home and I was scared. So they offered me to come in until my parents arrived. A few minutes later, I saw my mom’s van and my mom’s friend’s van. My dad’s truck was racing by to see if I had already got home. So, my neighbors and I went outside to see if they got home, and they did, so I was glad. I crossed the fence again to my house and told my mom what had happened. She told me the door was open so I could go inside. Now, I know always to check if the door is open or if there’s a hidden key and to call where my mom is because I have a phone now. I didn’t have one when I was 6.