It’s been awhile since I’ve shared another little piece. This has become quite the project!
“My earliest memories began after my mother left. I have to give credit to my father, for what he had to do during this time. His wife left him, he had to work overtime, and he had two kids to provide for. Needless to say, he clung to alcohol more than ever. I remember being very young, probably 2 or 3, being chased around the yard late at night by him riding a dirt bike with war paint on his face, screaming and yelling in efforts to scare me. I can still see his face. The way I stood there helpless as he looked at me and continued his illogical efforts, while I cried in fear. I know I ran frantically, as fast as my little legs could run in a diaper, and hearing him reve up the dirt bike right behind me.”
