My normal life
What exactly is a normal life? Is life all about love, money or possibly family? As a kid growing I didn’t realize the atmosphere around me could affect me in the future. …It all started at the age of 5…
“Mom!” I yelled. “Where are you going?”
“I am going to work” she said.
My mother, Asmene is a hard working lady. She works three jobs practically around the clock, while supporting my sister and me at the same time.
As my mom grabbed her purse and car keys to head out the door, she said, “I’ll be home later so I can cook you guys some dinner, okay?”
To me, this had become a routine for my mom every day except Sunday.
As she walked out, my sister and I would yell “bye mom, love you!”
As soon as my mom got out of the door, my sister Jenny asked, “can we play dress up today? I have this really cool outfit I want you to wear.”
Jenny was my older sister by three years.
I replied with a loud voice “No I don’t, I want to do something else besides playing dress up every day!”
My sister really didn’t have any friends that lived in our neighborhood so I always ended up having to play with her. Who am I kidding, though, I only had one friend myself, and his name was Jean-Pierre.
Jean-Pierre and I had been friend for many years. When I first met him, he was very shy and didn’t talk much. He and his family recently moved down from France to start a business on the Island of St Maarten, where we lived. He had a very strong accent and it was very difficult for him to speak English, let alone for me to understand him. Over time Jean-Pierre and I became best friends. We did everything together; we played soccer, played basketball, went snorkeling, and for some odd reason, always got in trouble by our parents. Other than us being troublemakers, we sure knew how to have fun together.
Often, as we kicked the soccer ball back and forth to each other, we would always be on the look out for my dad’s truck coming down the street. I will never forget Jean Pierre’s accent when he would yell, “your father is coming!”
We would commence our good-bye handshakes and waved goodbye as we went home.
As soon as I got home I would always scream, “Jen! Jen! Dad is coming, hurry up and clean up the house!”
We would pick up as much as we can to get the house looking tidy; my dad did not like to see the house messy when he came from work. After cleaning, my sister and I would sit on the couch waiting to hear his keys jingle as he opened the door.
He says with a tiring voice, “Hi Adam and Jen!”
We would reply, “Hi Dad.”
I would always get up to and gave my dad a handshake upon his arrival.
I was closer to my dad than my sister. Out of respect and tradition my sister would give him a kiss on both cheeks. Unfortunately, my dad, Paul is not a huggable or lovable person, so what see is what you get.
“How was work today dad?” I asked.
“Work was good today son, my boss got on me for not getting enough work done, but other then that work is just fantastic,” he responded.
My dad would always emphasized the word fantastic, I never really knew if he loved his job or just saying that word sarcastically.
He asked, “How was school today Jen?”
My sister replied “school was good, I got an ‘A’ on my test!”
“Show off!” I mumbled under my breath.
My sister has always been such was smarty-pants when it comes to schoolwork. On the other hand, I never brought a single book home in my backpack. I simply didn’t care about school.
“Why don’t you be more like your sister Adam, you can learn a lot from her,” my dad said out loud.
I replied rudely “I’m not as smart as her and never will be! I just don’t care about school.”
My dad shook his head and gave me the whole “education lecture” that I’d already heard way too many times.
So far, my life had been pretty normal when it came to having a family and friends. Most kids have a parent who is strict when it comes to school work and other stuff, just like my family. Most kids have a sibling that seems to always get more attention than the other. However, when my mom got home from work, what I thought was normal turned out to be not so normal at all.
My mom would always get home from work around seven in the evening. For some reason, my sister and I always got excited when my mom got home; as she pulled into the drive way we would be waiting by the front door for her.
“Hi mom!” As we rushed to embrace her with hugs and kisses, we yelled.
No matter what, my mom would always bring home a special surprise for us. It could be a toy, McDonalds or some kind of candy.
As we walked into the house my mom would say, “Hey Paul,” with no emotion on her face.
Without even looking at her my dad replied, “Hey Asmene.”
This was normally the most they ever talked to each other without arguing. However, by the end of every night, my mom and dad would start arguing. As time went on the arguing would progress into yelling at each other. As I looked at both them I would just see anger and frustration with one another.
After they had been arguing, my mom turned to us and yelled, “GO TO YOUR ROOM!” She said it with such a loud voice; I thought that my sister and I had done something wrong.
“What’s wrong mom?” as tears rolled down my cheeks.
Mom said in the same loud voice “I SAID GO TO YOUR ROOM!”
My sister then grabbed me by the arm and took me in to the other room.
We would sit right behind the door holding each others’ hand, listing to the yelling which eventually turned into screaming. After 15 to 20 minutes of screaming, we hear the front door being slammed and my dad’s car engine starting up. With a quick rev to the engine my dad would be gone until the next morning. My mom would then walk into our bedroom crying and holding us next to her side.
I vividly remember her always saying, “I don’t want to live like this anymore, kids.”
“Mom!” I yelled. “Where are you going?”
“I am going to work” she said.
My mother, Asmene is a hard working lady. She works three jobs practically around the clock, while supporting my sister and me at the same time.
As my mom grabbed her purse and car keys to head out the door, she said, “I’ll be home later so I can cook you guys some dinner, okay?”
To me, this had become a routine for my mom every day except Sunday.
As she walked out, my sister and I would yell “bye mom, love you!”
As soon as my mom got out of the door, my sister Jenny asked, “can we play dress up today? I have this really cool outfit I want you to wear.”
Jenny was my older sister by three years.
I replied with a loud voice “No I don’t, I want to do something else besides playing dress up every day!”
My sister really didn’t have any friends that lived in our neighborhood so I always ended up having to play with her. Who am I kidding, though, I only had one friend myself, and his name was Jean-Pierre.
Jean-Pierre and I had been friend for many years. When I first met him, he was very shy and didn’t talk much. He and his family recently moved down from France to start a business on the Island of St Maarten, where we lived. He had a very strong accent and it was very difficult for him to speak English, let alone for me to understand him. Over time Jean-Pierre and I became best friends. We did everything together; we played soccer, played basketball, went snorkeling, and for some odd reason, always got in trouble by our parents. Other than us being troublemakers, we sure knew how to have fun together.
Often, as we kicked the soccer ball back and forth to each other, we would always be on the look out for my dad’s truck coming down the street. I will never forget Jean Pierre’s accent when he would yell, “your father is coming!”
We would commence our good-bye handshakes and waved goodbye as we went home.
As soon as I got home I would always scream, “Jen! Jen! Dad is coming, hurry up and clean up the house!”
We would pick up as much as we can to get the house looking tidy; my dad did not like to see the house messy when he came from work. After cleaning, my sister and I would sit on the couch waiting to hear his keys jingle as he opened the door.
He says with a tiring voice, “Hi Adam and Jen!”
We would reply, “Hi Dad.”
I would always get up to and gave my dad a handshake upon his arrival.
I was closer to my dad than my sister. Out of respect and tradition my sister would give him a kiss on both cheeks. Unfortunately, my dad, Paul is not a huggable or lovable person, so what see is what you get.
“How was work today dad?” I asked.
“Work was good today son, my boss got on me for not getting enough work done, but other then that work is just fantastic,” he responded.
My dad would always emphasized the word fantastic, I never really knew if he loved his job or just saying that word sarcastically.
He asked, “How was school today Jen?”
My sister replied “school was good, I got an ‘A’ on my test!”
“Show off!” I mumbled under my breath.
My sister has always been such was smarty-pants when it comes to schoolwork. On the other hand, I never brought a single book home in my backpack. I simply didn’t care about school.
“Why don’t you be more like your sister Adam, you can learn a lot from her,” my dad said out loud.
I replied rudely “I’m not as smart as her and never will be! I just don’t care about school.”
My dad shook his head and gave me the whole “education lecture” that I’d already heard way too many times.
So far, my life had been pretty normal when it came to having a family and friends. Most kids have a parent who is strict when it comes to school work and other stuff, just like my family. Most kids have a sibling that seems to always get more attention than the other. However, when my mom got home from work, what I thought was normal turned out to be not so normal at all.
My mom would always get home from work around seven in the evening. For some reason, my sister and I always got excited when my mom got home; as she pulled into the drive way we would be waiting by the front door for her.
“Hi mom!” As we rushed to embrace her with hugs and kisses, we yelled.
No matter what, my mom would always bring home a special surprise for us. It could be a toy, McDonalds or some kind of candy.
As we walked into the house my mom would say, “Hey Paul,” with no emotion on her face.
Without even looking at her my dad replied, “Hey Asmene.”
This was normally the most they ever talked to each other without arguing. However, by the end of every night, my mom and dad would start arguing. As time went on the arguing would progress into yelling at each other. As I looked at both them I would just see anger and frustration with one another.
After they had been arguing, my mom turned to us and yelled, “GO TO YOUR ROOM!” She said it with such a loud voice; I thought that my sister and I had done something wrong.
“What’s wrong mom?” as tears rolled down my cheeks.
Mom said in the same loud voice “I SAID GO TO YOUR ROOM!”
My sister then grabbed me by the arm and took me in to the other room.
We would sit right behind the door holding each others’ hand, listing to the yelling which eventually turned into screaming. After 15 to 20 minutes of screaming, we hear the front door being slammed and my dad’s car engine starting up. With a quick rev to the engine my dad would be gone until the next morning. My mom would then walk into our bedroom crying and holding us next to her side.
I vividly remember her always saying, “I don’t want to live like this anymore, kids.”
I don't know what to say... It was poetic and vivid. I hope this isn't true, but if it is then I applaud you for posting such a story from your past. I was able to clearly engage with it and found it very inspiring.
ReplyDelete