Learning About Life

In fourth grade, my teacher, Mr. Price, handed back our math worksheets. I stared down at the paper in disbelief, D! My first D. Sudden anger rose up inside me, I grabbed the paper and shoved it in my book. Then, I threw the book as hard as I could into my desk. Mr. Price looked up from his desk, not very far away from mine. His eyes blazed. “What is your problem?” he yelled fiercely. “Nothing,” I replied, sulking. “You need to get your attitude adjusted very quickly, Miss Morgan,” he snapped. I felt my eyes well up with tears. You wouldn’t be doing well in school either if your parents woke you up every night fighting and screaming, I thought to myself. I worried about what was going to happen. He didn’t know that, though, and I wasn’t about to confide in him. I wiped at the tears on my face and sat up straight.
After mom and dad got a divorce, we were only allowed to see dad on the weekends. He moved into the new house that we had just bought. It was so cold that winter. Dad, my brother, and I all slept in one bed because dad didn’t have any furniture yet. Dad made us laugh, though, until we went home on Sunday night. He hugged us goodbye at the door and told us to have a good week. He would think about us. Tears trickled down my face. I didn’t try to hold them in anymore. I couldn’t look mom in the eye for a long time.
When I was fourteen years old, I watched my mom drink more than I had ever seen. One night as she started in on the large 32 pack of beer, we got into a fight. It was about something stupid. I can’t actually remember what it really was. It was something that made the mouthy teenager in me strike out. I screamed at her until my voice was hoarse in my throat. She grabbed me, pinned me down on the bed, and in that moment I realized how valuable life really is. As soon as she let me up, I hitch-hiked to the next town and stayed the night at my boyfriend’s house. I never wanted to go home.
In my senior year of high school, I had made all the necessary arrangements to go to Eastern Illinois University. Shortly afterwards I was offered a full scholarship to a community college. I wrestled with both ideas, trying to figure out what to do. I asked dad. He said he was so proud of me and he would support me no matter what I decided. I asked mom. She said she just wanted me to know that she wouldn’t be handing me money all the time because I was going to be on my own now. I said thanks, mom.
One weekend of my freshman year of college at Eastern, I went home. I stopped by to see my mom and we talked for awhile. When I started to leave, she looked at me and smiled. “I miss you. You know you can come home anytime,” she said with tears in her eyes. I smiled back at her. I looked at the empty house and then down at the can of beer in her hand, shook my head, and walked away.