"Momma, its time for you to go to work" I said.
"But its Saturday" moaned my groggy mother from her bed.
"But Mommy, its Wednesday, you have to go to work" I said quietly in response. My daily routine at age 7 consisted of waking up my 1yr old and 5yr old brothers for daycare, waking up my momma and trying to get her out of bed, making sure my brothers were fed, and putting them on the couch in front of cartoons. All before I went to school in the morning. When I was younger, my momma went through times that she would either be way too happy for a while or too sad for no reason to get out of bed for a while. I think it was called North Pole Pression, or two polar desperation, or something like that. Oh wait, it was called bipolar depressions. She had it since she was in middle school. My step dad drank alot and was always "at work" so my grandma and I had to make sure everything was a little ok. My grandma washed our laundry, brought us food, paid our bills, drove me to school sometimes, took care of my mommas everything. I love my grandma, I call her Memaw. My memaw and papa are the bestest people in the world, because they were nice enough to let me come live with them when I turned 6. I think I had to move in to their house because my momma and step dad couldn't take care of us all the time. I had my own bedroom, because my mommy had me when she was 19 and I was the first grandchild, so I had my own room. 3 walls were light pink, and one was dark pink. I had a full size white iron rod frame bed and had shabby chic sheets and stuff. I had my white dresser, and my turquoise desk with my favorite pictures on it. My bookbag would sit by the door, and my American Girl Dolls and their little toy beds on my floor. I always loved that room. I loved my grandparents house. We had a play fort in our backyard, that I helped my grandpa build when I was 4. We also had 10 acres of land, so we had a field and a small forest. There was a creek, and a barn, and the best sledding hill. That was the place I had my best memories to a certain point. But a short year later, my views of that house had changed. Something within the world and reality was going to change that house forever. Almost like it was haunted. But this, was only the first sprinkle of a rain drop.
YOU ARE READING
Storm Started With A Drop
Non-FictionA young girl tells her death defying story of how she came to be. She tells about all of the horrific and exciting things that have happened to her on this journey through childhood and into adulthood. What will be the worst of her disasters?
