My Letter to You

Dear Peyton (Bleeker),

            You are the world’s greatest little sister and my best friend. I tell you everything and you never judge me. I never consider you a little sister because you help me more than I help you. You really should be the older one. We have been by each other’s side since you were born. You have made my senior year great. It’s just not fair you are a freshman. I want to take you to college with me. I don’t want to leave you. You make me the happiest person ever. You can sense when something is wrong with me. We finish each other’s sentences and have the same thoughts. We are twin souls and almost identical twins. You just need to grow a couple of inches. It makes me sad that I have to leave you in about five months. What am I going to do without you? I am going to have to find someone else to do stupid stuff with like ride our bikes five miles just to get a burrito, stay up until 6 a.m. doing nothing, and sneak out to go bowling.

            It’s the memories that will keep us close. I’ll always remember our late night conversations, late night drives, dance parties with just us two, our weird road trip games, and seriously just everything. I’ll even miss you getting mad at me. You are the reason why I am here today. I’m glad you told mom on me when I was making stupid decisions when you were younger. You never gave up on me. You always knew how to calm me down and make me laugh. You never turn your back on me.

            It’s crazy how much you have grown up. I remember you being so little and innocent. You were the cutest girl ever. You had short hair and wore nerdy clothes all the time. You used to tie your hair straight back with your brown, ugly, free glasses. But now you wear mascara and have pretty long hair. You are so pretty. It seemed like just yesterday you were a little girl. You turn fifteen already tomorrow! You make me seem so old.

            Promise me, you will never change. Promise me, we will always be very close even when I go off to college. I know you don’t really like Holbrook and the dorm, but, trust me, you will get used to it. Holbrook isn’t all that bad but the dorm . . . well you will never get used to it. ;) There are good people here, and it’s the kind of change you need. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always be your big sister. You’ll always be the greatest human alive on this planet to me. You know all my secrets, and I trust you with my life. I love you, baby sister. Let’s make these last few months the absolute greatest!

Love,

Wizard

Alcohol

           I hate alcohol. Do you really want to know why I hate alcohol? I hate it because it ruins everything. For the past two years, alcohol has damaged my family more than anything. I never really voiced my opinion to my family until this past weekend. Every Friday I am excited to go home and see my family, but this past weekend was different. When I got home I knew something was different. I walked into a dark, cold house, and my older sister was sitting on the couch in the dark. I thought it was strange, but I still went to my room and dropped off my bags. After I walked back into the living room and said hi to my sister. She looked at me and said, “Leave me alone. Go to bed.” Her make-up was smeared, and her voice was different but it sounded very similar. Like the time I got a phone call at 4 a.m. asking me if I could pick her up because she was too drunk to drive. I knew she was drunk but my mom didn’t notice. Until my sister snapped and told my mom she “wasn’t worth s**t” and threw the TV remote at her. When it comes to my mother and younger sister, I am very protective of them. My body began to tremble. I really didn’t want to say anything to my sister, but I hate seeing my mother being treated like that. From there on things got way out of hand, so my younger sister, mom, and I left to get a motel room. By that time, my shoulder was bleeding, my head was bruised, and my heart ached. But I never once hit my sister because I made a promise to myself and God that I would never do that.

 I didn’t know what else to do or say but cry. My younger sister looked at me and said, “I’m scared.” I knew I needed to be strong for my mother and my sister but I just couldn’t be strong anymore. I broke down. I tried getting some sleep, and I slept for about two hours. I woke up to my mother crying and praying. I eventually fell back asleep. It was about 9 a.m., and the sun was shining. My mother told me to sit down by her, and she said, “I know you don’t know this but never argue with a drunk person. I learned that the hard way from your dad.” Moments later, I got a text message from my sister saying, “I’m sorry.” I forgive her, but I am still trying to forget. I will love her until the day I die. She will always be my sister. But right now I am numb and weak. I can’t feel anything. I’m not ready to talk about anything that happened and how I feel but eventually I know I have to forget and move on. And after everything that happened this weekend this is the reason why I hate alcohol. Alcohol ruins everything. I hate everything about alcohol. I hate being around alcohol. I just hate it.

My Third Birthday

      I was just about to turn three when my father left. He tried to take me with him, but my mother wouldn’t let him. He took our truck, our only source of transportation. I remember catching rides with my mother’s friends to and from school. This picture brings back so many memories. I remember my father and mother getting into an argument. Their arguments were mainly triggered by the same things every time. This argument I knew was the worst because I saw my father hit my mother. As she slammed against our front door, I squeezed my eyes shut very tightly. I stood in the hallway, and my older sister grabbed my hand and told me to hide while she called the cops. I was hiding with my younger sister in my mother’s closet. I remember hearing my brother yell at my father to stop. I was scared. The cops came, and I walked out of the closet and saw a man in a red plaid shirt in handcuffs. I say, “a man” because that wasn’t my father. I didn’t know who that was.

     After my father left, I remember him trying to come back and plead my mother for forgiveness. She never gave in. No matter the struggle financially and emotionally she was facing, she never let my father come back. I never realized how much we financially struggled until my mother explained to me about a year ago. After my father left, my mother tried to get our lives back to normal as possible. She gave me the best third birthday ever. We never bought anything new. My gifts were wrapped in newspaper. The clothes I got for gifts were hand-me-downs from my cousins. The cake we ate was never bought; we made it out of cake mix from the dollar store. But none of that really mattered to me because I was happy I was with my mother.  She literally fought for our lives. She gave us everything she could.
 
     In this picture, you cannot tell our struggle, you can only tell my happiness. Until this day my mother always says, “I really don’t know how we made it through those times.” I am thankful for my mother every day, she has taught me to know that I capable of anything. I believe my mother is living proof that anybody can conquer their fears and be their own individual and still be the most loving, caring mother ever.