Dad had been gone now for 9 yrs. Momma just had another little girl, who had just turned 3. Momma had me and 2 others at home. Taking care of 3 kids, so far, and her mother, by herself is a lot of hard work I’m thinking. Having to put so much weight on only two shoulders. I tried to be good and do my best to help her when she needed it most. I had already learned how to cook by age 6 and I tried to keep my brother and sister in line, while momma went to work, having me watch our 3yr old sister, when I got home from school. Things were good in life, everything was right, I was going to turn 13 soon, I had good grades that I’d get money for and best of all I was getting ready to graduate from 5th grade to 6th grade. I was so excited, but when I came home and saw my momma’s face I knew something was wrong and my good world began to fall, piece by piece in front of my eyes. I ran to my momma, dropping my bag to the floor in front of the door. Momma told me something went wrong with her arm that day and she had to go see a doctor to find out what had happened. Well, doctor said that she had thrown out her arm and she would have to rest for a long time. He gave her some bottles that had nasty big green and white pills that she had to take 3 to 4 times a day, of each. Right then and there I decided to take care of my momma, after all, she always took take of me when I get sick, well now it was my turn to take care of her. I helped her from the couch and put her straight to bed. For three weeks I cooked, cleaned, demanded my siblings to help clean, made momma take her pills, answered the phone, made the kids do their homework, which they hated me for but never argued for momma’s sake, I did everything that momma would do to take care of us and the house, and did my own homework that my brother brought me. I even gave the dog a bath and put the dishes in the dishwasher, I wanted to make sure everything was like momma’s work except that I did it but no one except the family knew that. After awhile she got better, or so I thought. In the middle of the 3rd week we took momma to the doctor her arm had gotten worse, momma had me call up some of her friends and have them come up there to the hospital. When they finally got there, she had them pray over her and get rid of whatever was attacking her. The rest of the week went by in a blur, but I remember hearing momma moan and groan in pain in the next room, every pained noise escaping her lips, led me to believe that what was wrong with her was my fault. Even when she told me it wasn’t, it made more and more sense that it was. By the end of the 3rd week, there were no more pained noises, only the sound of her snoring. By week 4 she can sit up and walk around, but still can put no strain on her shoulder or arm. 5th week is graduation week and momma says that she’ll come, I cant help but get excited and now I’m back in school to rehearse for graduation. Even when I got home I helped momma out. Graduation day, and I can see momma in the 4th row, watching me, and as I look back a realization hit me full force, almost knocking me out of my chair. Momma does what I had to do for 4 weeks everyday, even when I just wanted to yell at someone so badly it would be nothing compared to what momma feels, having to do that for 13yrs, with 3 to now 4 kids plus her mother, and still try to keep calm and not stress out and not do something she’d regret. This realization led me to another: My momma is a VERY strong person, to have all this weight on her shoulders and keep moving forward. Which led me to a conclusion: life is harder than it looks. Its not icing on a cake, its not a free ride to Wally World. It’s the real world and this, this thing that I had to do was going to be nothing compared to what the future might hold in store. Because I, I was momma’s little helper.