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.