Personal Narrative: Divorce

Voices, rolling over my pink barbie blankets and sheets, I swung my feet over the side of the bed. Sitting quietly listening to the angry voices shouting down the hall from my bedroom. Sadly, making out the words of the loud muffled shouting was impossible. Only being 6 or 7 years old at the time, of course I didn’t understand why my parents fought or why they hated each other enough to divorce. Once they had split, dad would perform his greatest magic trick yet. Disappearing, leaving my mom with 3 little girls. From that moment on my mother had made it her mission to drill the 7B’s into my head, which little did I know her words that stick to me like glue, would crawl out of her mouth to teach me a sacred lesson that would change my life for

“do you see how hard I’ve worked for you?” no mama, I didn’t. and I wish I paid more attention. I knew she worked hard but I didn’t understand how hard she worked until she woke me up at 3am to help her deliver papers, “baby get dressed, I need help today.” She would load stacks of paper in her van and follow her route, I’d bag, and she’d deliver. After that early morning, my eyes that were once blind by my own interest were now opened. I’d come home from school and she would be taking a test or doing homework, my mom brought a new meaning to the 7B’s. being a single mom, going back to college, and working to provide for her family, I saw her stress and her tired baggy eyes from her total load fill her face. Highschool came and I was involved in activities, even though she was drowning in her stress she still made it to all my school band concerts and track meets. knowing she still had a 5-page essay to finish and submit before 12am, then leave again for work. Her hurt became my hurt, when she fell I reached to her silently, my eyes screaming “Mama I see you now.” Seeing her hard work made me work even harder in school. my short replies to her words went from “okay, whatever mom.” To “okay, I