The Daily Struggle

Blane Avenue. The time I spent in that house are times I’ll never forget.
It was a prison to grow up in, and you were expected to learn quickly.


My dad wasn’t much help. In and out of jail. Fights with my mom.
He is hooked on meth. I knew he was going to prison for having two pounds of meth. It was hard watching him get hand cuffed. He didn’t even get to say bye.



Everything was falling apart, and as always it gets worse before it gets better. My mom was diagnosed with cancer and i was just a kid but I understood why my mom’s hair was falling out, and why my brother and sister said “hope for the best” with eyes full of tears. I wasn’t sure how I accepted it so fast. That day I had a realization that my mom was probably going to die and that’s just how its going to be.


It was just my little brother and I. Lonely days. Mom laying in bed while I read to her my chapter books until she fell asleep or my little brother needed something. It’s funny I never really knew if my mom even liked my books. I guess she just listened because i was reading them.



Her illness took its toll on us, money wasn’t the easiest to obtain and keeping myself occupied meant walking around town or sleeping. It wasn’t all bad though, I always hung out with my best friends and learned new things understand how someone in my mom’s situation could smile with all those tears in her eyes until the impossible happens.



Finally, My mom was in remission, even though the doctors had said she most likely not going to make it, but here we are. She works hard and hasn’t got the cancer back and you never understand how someone in my mom’s situation could smile with all those tears in her eyes until the impossible happens. I know this memoir needs a conclusion but only thing I realized is that life is a daily struggle and i can’t put a conclusion to life.





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