the start of something

i’m the youngest child to the youngest child. neither mothers wanted another youngest child. life had other plans for both of them.

this is how my life started. i grew up with so little that saying i had the ‘clothes on my back’ is often overstated. the life we had on that dirt road so many years ago seems like so far away and so distant. those kids – they’re just memories to me. i often wonder what made times like they were but remember that it’s over. that was then and this, this is now.

my siblings and i, we were all we had most of the time. food was often scarce. money was in short supply. and love wasn’t in abundance in our home. i never saw my parents have any love, compassion or gratitude for one another nor did i see them share those feelings for their children. the way we survived those years was by laughter, hiding and learning how to fit in while being taunted for how poor we were. children could be heard teasing us and saying ‘stay away from them, they’re poor’.

so, this is how my story begins. i’m the youngest child to the youngest child. i grew up on a dirt road in a house not big enough for two but holding more than eight. running from the devil and falling asleep to the sounds of my own heartbeat in my ears. a child in want of love and in search of freedom.

my life never really ended up the way i expected it to. but my life did turn out a way that i enjoyed. man, it’s been a hell of a ride. but, this is the before.