I was born in the year of '93. Some could say I am young, but have a soul of the old. Well that's how it was.
I guess you could say I was a bit spoiled growing up. My dad had two kids before he got with my mom, who was pregnant with my older sister at the time.
A year and a half later I came into the picture. My child hood was good. My parents were poor when we were still in diapers. My mom never fails to tell me the time where they lived in a small sheltered house.
Not much of a house, more like a shed. Probably no bigger than a five by eight closet. Not to mention, they didn't have a restroom, nor kitchen, or even a living room. All there was, was a bed and a crib.
My mom told me, that whenever we needed our bottles warmed, they would turn on the grill, and warm them up. Probably the only thing close to a stove you can have.
Now whenever we complained, she would always say, be thankful for the clothes on your back, the food in your stomach, and the roof over your head, because we struggled to make sure you had that.
After she told us that story, we finally understood. We understood the times she would get mad at leaving food left on our plate, or the time I complained about what I was wearing.
Yeah, as kids we had it good. Of course also as kids, we didn't really appreciate it. My sister and I would always fight, and make things hard for our parents. The house would always get messy, and my mom would be there to clean it up.
Our rooms were never clean. Who's kids room would be. My mom would tell us, clean up your room, but we would ignore her. Then she started saying, "if I have to go in there myself, I will bring a trash bag and throw everything away!" Didn't believe her, until she came into the room with a bag, and started throwing what she saw on the floor.
We would run in so fast with us saying we would do it, and that we did. We were spoiled.
I remember the time we were younger, probably maybe six or seven, she would give us a game. "Whoever cleaned up the most, would get ..." It would be a toy, candy, or anything a kid wanted.
Those were the days of innocence. We didn't even realize how tired my mom was, or how my parents were out of love.
My dad was rarely home. Not in the cheating way; at least I don't think. He worked at a construction company, and he would go to work before we woke, and came home by the time we were asleep. Hardly saw him except on weekends.
Even then, we wouldn't go out or do stuff. Dad would be home drinking, while mom was at work. Then mom would come home from work, to make sure we were fed and probably clean the house if it was dirty.
Dad didn't clean, nor do anything of the sort. Felt as though he had the mind set of that being women's work. Guess can't blame him, that's how he was raised.
Probably should tell you about my family. Its a crazy one. If you asked me which one I liked most now, it would be my mom's. As a child it was my dad's.
Granted they spoiled me the most. My dad was the baby out of my grandmother's kids. She had three girls and one boy. That made my father the favorite, not only cause he was the only male, but also because he was the youngest.
Now being as the baby, my grandmother didn't like my mom. She was picky on who is with her son.
Remember how I said he had two kids before my mom, yup, well of course that would mean they have a different mother.
My father married before my mom. They had two kids, a girl, then a boy. Yet because my grandmother didn't approve of her, she got in between them and broke them up. She couldn't handle the drama. A few years passed, and that's when he met my mom.
Well as a kids I didn't know any of this. I was just happy. They treated me better than my sis, because she wasn't my father's child. Of course I never saw this as a child.
As I grew older, I began to realize this. The glares, the snide remarks, and the occasional ignoring. I had never realized why my sister hated them until I knew the truth. Slowly I too began to resent them.
I guess I should get back to my story. Even though I went through all that, we were still far from the drama, well four hours away far.
I was born in San Antonio TX. Though when I was five, we moved to Fort Worth TX. Live there until I was in 5th grade. We would move houses a lot, and sometimes even schools.
In 5th grade I went to three different schools. Two of which were just mile apart; had moved to another school district. The third one was when we finally got out of 'the ghetto'.
Moved to a somewhat small town forty-five minutes from FW. It was called Azle TX.
Now I'm not racist, but from seeing African American to white was a difference. What was funny though, was that we were Hispanic. Fort worth consisted of mostly blacks, and Azle was mostly whites, its was a change. No matter, I still was able to make friends, no matter the color of their skin; we are all equals.
They say when you move a lot, you either get more bold, or shy. Guess which one was me? If you answered bold, you were wrong. I was shy, very shy.
Well I guess that should be all for today. Will tell you the rest later, not that anyone would read this, but I don't really care. 😊 Until then, adios!
