My Father, My Brother, The Owner Of A Dance Studio Essay
My mother worked as the owner of a dance studio. As her lifelong dream was being fulfilled at the studio, being at home was a different story. My father worked for the Kannapolis City Police Department where he was most likely saving a life. On the days my mother was home, we ate breakfast, had playtime, and took a nap. I went to dance with my mother most days for lessons, and because she was my mother, I was quite rebellious to her teachings.
On days that I didn’t participate in dance classes, my father watched my brother and I. I can’t tell you a time where we all did something together and he didn’t have a beer in his hand.
My father started drinking alcohol during his high school years. His parents did not discuss underage drinking with their three sons, and it was known that if it was in the fridge, it was for everyone. There were never rules created saying that my dad and his brothers couldn’t drink, and my grandparents weren’t going to realize if beers disappeared from the fridge.
One night, my mother was at her studio teaching classes until after my bedtime. This was a normal schedule to me. I typically ate fried bologna sandwiches and Ore-Ida fries, took my bath, and went to bed. 14 years ago, my father was watching my brother and I. He…