1944. All I remember that year by is that it was the year that I lost my mother. You're probably wondering who my father is. My father was a merchant back when I was born... But he left me and my mother for some other Mexican chick he met through work. I was happy for him while growing up. I know what it feels like to be with someone you can't stand one bit. That's how I felt with my mother's 2nd husband. He was a short man who wore a rich tux with every type of leather you can think of. I'm just going to say it... He was extremely rich. And it's a shame to say that I grew up with him, unfortunately. He wasn't the greatest man. He always treated me with attitude and hit me with his pricy black belt from France (which didn't make the bruise any richer). The day I lost my mother I remember being very upset at her because she had given away my beloved dog, Winky. I remember telling her I didn't love her and to get out of the house because I wanted to live alone.... She left the house and only drove the car for only 3 blocks. Right before she crossed the road, the rusty old 1900's car decided to stop in the middle of the street. I guess none of the upcoming cars saw her ......or they just didn't have time to turn. Let's just say it was a terrible accident and that .......nothing good came out of that day.
