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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/946324-Memories
Rated: E · Essay · Drama · #946324
This is an essay of a childhood memory that stays with me til this day.
As far back as I can recall I never looked at life as being great. There was nothing to celebrate, no happy moments. My days were filled with emptiness, bitterness, and lonely feelings. The purpose of this story is to encourage and enlighten others, not to bore you.

Growing up as the oldest child, I have few good memories. I mean, yes there were Christmases and birthday celebrations; however, a dark cloud covered any happy moment I longed to cherish. The home that I grew to love had now become a place where evil resided. My home was now filled with hatred, accusations, and a dysfunctional upbringing.

The memory that haunts me the most stays with me to this day, because it was the night my father kicked my mother out of the house for the first time. I was no more than ten years old at the time, yet that night remains fresh in my brain. My brother and I followed our mother out in the cold dark night, not wanting her to be alone or afraid. As we sat there the three of us, watching the moon shine brightly mother came up with a plan that Chris and I wanted no part of. My mother said, " Take this potted plant and throw it through the window." Together we chimed, "NO!" Mother than sprang to her feet and hurled the potted plant through the window. Hearing the sound of the glass shattering sent a chill up my spine.

Startled at what had just taken place father busted out of the door like a madman hunting prey with his knife. Quickly we started running through the night, afraid for our lives. I was sure my father would kill us if he caught us. After what seemed to be an eternity, Chris and I emerged from the bushes; shaken at what had just taken place. We walked the long dusty dirt road in search of mother; finally, we were reunited with her and she informed us that everything was okay, and we could return home.

Shortly after the incident, our family packed up and moved. In what seemed to be a beautiful place, and a fresh start was truly only the beginning of how my life would be tremendously impacted. One Christmas after the move, our parents did not buy my sister and I anything. This was their way of punishing us. Still, to this day, I don't know why they did it. They made us watch as our brothers tore into the packages with excitement. After this I realized we were no longer children that our parents loved; we were slaves in bondage of their cruel ways.

My life was horrible. I hated it; I hated my parents but most of all I hated God. " How could he do this to me," I wondered. The more I prayed the more I knew God had turned a deaf ear to my cries. Seriously, how do you expect a child to make it when a parent is supposed to provide a covering for their children? As my life started spiraling down, I became a vicious person. I no longer trusted anyone. By the age of thirteen, I was stealing, running away from home, and school was certainly not a priority. The first time I was locked out of the house I will never forget it. It was a cool night and mother had given me permission to go to the movies. Upon my return I knocked on the door, not knowing I wouldn't get in. After what seemed to be a lifetime, I gave up and walked around back to try to get in with no success. That night the floor of the garage was my bed. As I lay on the cold wet cement my anger for mother grew. How I wanted her dead.

When morning came and I knocked on the door mother let me in and said, "Where have you been?" I thought, " She knew where the hell I had been". She walked away as if she didn’t care. By this time I was smart enough to know that she didn't. Reluctantly, Social Services ended up taking custody of my siblings, and me where we lived out the rest of our teen years in-group homes. The day that they rescued me from my parents was the day I found my freedom.

In conclusion, life is what you make of it. We all have choices. You can choose to overcome your past of heartaches, and pain, or let it eat away at you until there is nothing left. As for me, I have chosen to stay positive and motivated; knowing that every hurdle that I overcome is just another step closer to victory.

Lisa
© Copyright 2005 LisaMarie (lisamarie720 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/946324-Memories