history, part I

My mom disappeared when I was young. When I was about ten, she became so emotionally distant that it was almost as though she was really gone. When my parents separated and then divorced, I lived with my dad.

My dad wasn't the present parent that would have created stability either. He was often off with the flavor of the week, spending too much money trying to impress, and forgetting for the time being that he had children to think about. This left me quite a lot of time to get into trouble, which I frequently did.

In the meantime, I remained close with my grandma. She and I had a closer relationship than do most people separated by a generation, and she taught me much of the lessons I now feel were most important. I learned about honesty, cooking, and homecrafts from her, and we both got quite good at playing Gin Rummy.

At 19, I needed to move. Things got unbearable with the latest new character on the scene (in this case, my sister's boyfriend who had moved in and made an uncomfortable situation). I headed out West to discover my fortune.

Many adventures and a couple of years later, I discovered my grandma had been rushed to emergency surgery for cancer, and I hurried back into town to be there for her. When it became clear that she would need chemotherapy, I went back home, tied up a few loose ends, and returned to be by her side.

I spent my days with her.