Born in December too close to Christmas.
Lived with my grandparents from age 3-4 because my parents where too busy smoking crack. I remember driving with my dad to this bar, in our blue, Ford minivan. The bar was in the vicinity of the Wonderbread warehouse in Phoenix, AZ. He got his face punched in. I still wonder what happened while I was waiting in that van. I remember the smell, the glass pipe with it's charred, round bottom. We lived with my grand-parents for only a little bit. My mother became pregnant. I think it was the crack that caused her to deliver 3 months early.
We lived in Holbrook during my kindergarten days. Pretty lame.
Rode a Greyhound back to PHX. Lived in a 1 BR apartment with my dad for about a year. He worked at the post office right down the street. Got lots of cuts from getting pushed around. Then I got spanked for getting hurt.
Basically moved every year. Never stayed in one, particular place too long.
I woke up in the middle of the night; I was about 8 years old. I walked into the living room. Behind the couch I saw a man and girl laying naked. Then I heard my father's voice tell my older sister to put her panties back on. My mother was a nurse and worked nights. When she came home I told her what I saw. My dad and older sister would be locked in the master bedroom together every-now-and-then.
We lived in a 3 bedroom apartment with 10 parrots. My specialized bike got stollen off the patio. I got spanked with the buckle. I remember my little sister and me running from the buckle constantly. One day my father's long, lost children from Korea showed up. His daughter was married and just had a child of her own. She wanted us to take care of her brother, because she no longer could. My half-brother's given name was the same as my father's, but his adopted name was different. He never made sense when he spoke. I think it's because he smoked battery acid. He always kissed my hands. My little sister was afraid of him. Turns out he had knives and guns hidden under our couch cushions. Came home one day, half-brother gone, police officers weren't, and my father was covered in bruises.
Christmas time, age 10, different house...father and older sister at the kitchen sink and mother standing by the kitchen table. My dad says to my older sister, "let's have sex later". He whispered this several times. Mom was oblivious, but I let her know via pen and paper. I came home from school one afternoon. My dad told me to leave and never come back. He found the note. I found it strange that my father's whitey-tighties were always in my sister's room. One night, feeling sick to my stomach, I tried to find my father. Mom was at work. Dad was nowhere to be found. Then I went to my older sister for help. Her bedroom door was locked. I knocked. She wouldn't answer. I should have called my mom. I tried to console myself in the living-room. My sister eventually came out "to help". She was "hugging" me. Her arms and hands smothering my eyes and ears. She constantly said nothing to me for the next 5 minutes. Then she suddenly told me that dad was in the garage, cleaning the garage. How did she know this if she just woke up and came out of her bedroom? I went to the garage and there was my father, no shirt, just jeans.
Crapped my pants in New York while visiting my aunt.
Peed my pants in the 5th grade.
Started smoking weed in junior high; first hit was in Sedona. Drank Zimas and took acid too.
Did not get sent to boarding school, which is what I longed for, so desperately.
Got 16 hours of detention and counseling because my carpool was smoking cigarettes. Guilt by association I was told. Failed basic Catholic beliefs. Dad had a new addiction, narcotic pain pills. He liked to sweep 12th street in the middle of the night. Our neighbors thought he was strange. One day I got to drag him by his arms back into the house. He fell down in our yard because he was so high. He was in his whitey-tighties.
Moved from PHX to the middle of nowhere. This changed my daily commute from 10 minutes to 50 minutes, one way. Found syringes and vials of Demerol in my parents bathroom. Mom said that it was dad's. Dad said it was mom's. My father's colon ruptured in the 11th grade. Mom got fired for not wasting narcotics appropriately. Mom attempted suicide. She had an 11 page suicide note. I never got to read it.
I moved away to college. My little sister and mom helped me. We got into a bad car accident on the way. We were rear-ended around Bumble Bee. Got a call from my little sister at 0600 on August 27th, sophomore year of college. My mom was dead. My dad told me it was a stroke. Got a new car, so did my dad and two sisters. Then there was a Harley Davidson, then there was all this new, very, expensive furniture and electronics. Then there was a new house. Then there was a new van, fully equipped with carpet cleaning machinery. Then there were new, fancy toilets, sinks, and bathtubs. Then there was nothing. My father managed to squander 1 million dollars in less than 18 months. One day I found out that my boyfriend, my first, was sleeping with my "best friend". This had been going on for a bout a year. One-and-a-half years after my mother's death, I read her death certificate. Cause of death: accidental overdose. Morphine. Four undigested pills where found in her stomach. I lost my full scholarship and it took me 5 years to graduate college. My little sister dropped out of high school, one semester before graduating. She moved in with this 25 year old that lived across the street from us. They'r now married and live with his parents. She is also pregnant. My older sister still lives with my father, she's 8 years older than myself. Not once, in the last 26 years have I ever witnessed her brush her teeth. Her smile is black and rotten. My father still cleans the garage.