Memories
I do not remember much about my childhood. However, I remember my father. Not in the ways that a child should remember their father either. I have no memory of my father being a loving person. I do remember the hateful things he did, though. I remember having pneumonia as a baby; my mother stayed up for two days taking care of me. One night, she fell asleep with me in her arms. My father came home from work and he found us. No, he didn 't put me in my crib and tell my mother to go to bed. He started yelling at my mother for falling asleep with me as if he didn 't care that I was sick, nor that his wife was up for the past two days. Not too long after that, my father pushed a couch in front of the door to our house. He locked my brother, my mom, and I (still sick) out in the snow. To this day, I have no idea what he was thinking, or why he even did it. Fast forward to the later years of my childhood. Those years were filled with my mother packing up and leaving with my brother and me, leaving my father behind. Yet time and time again she went back. A couple of …show more content…
He doesn’t know my favorite color, my favorite food, my favorite movie, or even what I want to pursue in life. He doesn’t even know my age. He doesn’t know any of these things simply because he has never cared to try and get to know me. My grandmother always said that one day, when I am grown and no longer am focused on the troubles that he has caused me, he will want to be apart of my life. I’m not sure how I will handle that, though. He doesn’t deserve to be in my life. He has had so many opportunities to be in my life and get to know me. He missed out on my life. He missed out on seeing me grow up, and there is no doubt that he will miss out on more events that happen in my life. At this point in my life, that does not upset me anymore. I turned out pretty great, despite him not leading me anywhere in life. Despite my many flaws, I am a pretty great person. I am smart, talented, I
I do not remember much about my childhood. However, I remember my father. Not in the ways that a child should remember their father either. I have no memory of my father being a loving person. I do remember the hateful things he did, though. I remember having pneumonia as a baby; my mother stayed up for two days taking care of me. One night, she fell asleep with me in her arms. My father came home from work and he found us. No, he didn 't put me in my crib and tell my mother to go to bed. He started yelling at my mother for falling asleep with me as if he didn 't care that I was sick, nor that his wife was up for the past two days. Not too long after that, my father pushed a couch in front of the door to our house. He locked my brother, my mom, and I (still sick) out in the snow. To this day, I have no idea what he was thinking, or why he even did it. Fast forward to the later years of my childhood. Those years were filled with my mother packing up and leaving with my brother and me, leaving my father behind. Yet time and time again she went back. A couple of …show more content…
He doesn’t know my favorite color, my favorite food, my favorite movie, or even what I want to pursue in life. He doesn’t even know my age. He doesn’t know any of these things simply because he has never cared to try and get to know me. My grandmother always said that one day, when I am grown and no longer am focused on the troubles that he has caused me, he will want to be apart of my life. I’m not sure how I will handle that, though. He doesn’t deserve to be in my life. He has had so many opportunities to be in my life and get to know me. He missed out on my life. He missed out on seeing me grow up, and there is no doubt that he will miss out on more events that happen in my life. At this point in my life, that does not upset me anymore. I turned out pretty great, despite him not leading me anywhere in life. Despite my many flaws, I am a pretty great person. I am smart, talented, I