You would think my family was perfect from the outside, it was pretty much the American Dream. My dad worked as a contractor and my mom stayed home to cook meals and take care of my sister and me. Later on, my mom insisted on working again and after that, our family went downhill. My parents began fighting more than usual and decided to split up. With them acting like they were in a high school relationship, it forced me to grow up. Until I was 6, we lived in Amityville. My house was a small ranch home with dark brown siding all around and a pale blue door. When you first walked inside, there was old fashioned pink floral wallpaper around the house with clawed mahogany furniture with ugly designed cushions that were in style back then. When a holiday came around, everything was decorated. From villages on top of the piano to stickers on the windows, my mom went crazy decorating. Since Halloween was in between my sister and mine birthdays, my mom would have themed parties. One year it was themed after The Wizard of Oz and she planned with family members who was which character. She worked so hard to make it all memorable, and she succeeded. When I was in third grade, my mom was offered a job in Melville and we decided it was best to move. So, we picked up everything and left. Once my mom got settled into her job, things changed. This new home didn’t seem like a home at all. There were no dinners ready, no decorations for each holiday, and no birthday parties. My mom became too busy for it all and work always came first. And from then on, my mom and dad would fight about anything and everything.
“Chris, this house is a mess!” my dad exclaimed.
“Joe, not now,” my mom said trying to push it aside.
“Will it ever get done?”
“Yes, Joe.”
“Yea, okay, I’m sure.”
“Whatever, you’re such a jerk.” “Jerk” became a word that was used in most of the conversations they had. Doing family activities became more of a chore than an activity, it wasn’t enjoyable anymore. Anything we did turned into a fight between the two of them. By the time ninth grade came around, they were separated within the same house. My mom was in her bedroom and my dad had moved into the apartment in the basement. This eventually became very hard for my sister and I. If we wanted or needed something and one of them said to ask the other, we ended up taking laps by running up and down the stairs to deliver each other’s messages. Nothing was ever taken the right way and my parents always ended up fighting even more. Therefore, I realized I needed to ask for less. I soon learned they weren’t reliable anymore and I needed to grow up quickly. I began making my own meals, using my own money for necessities, and finding rides when I needed them. My parents weren’t comfortable with me driving around with friends they didn’t know, but they understood that if they weren’t around