As a child, my allowance...

My allowance was learning life the hard way. My parents often shouting, yelling as they argued about bills and not enough money. Daddy drank too much beer but I remember him working 12 and sixteen hour shifts at the factory. He always hand over his most of his paycheck to my mom, but sneak in enough to drink his beer. Every bar, every tavern he'd stop, just one for the road! Mom pacing the floor, calling the bars, the hospitals and the jailhouse. Then here come dad stumbling home inenibriated, swearing that he had just one. Sometimes mom knocked the crap out of him. Most of the time it was just the yelling, the loudness of angered voices that hurt my ears, made me sad and I did cry. "Daddy, please don't drink no more..." I was four yrs old. But I must say...that through it all I learned to survive life. I learned to love and to forgive, never forget. Though our family was somewhat dysfunctional, my parents they were kind, honest, decent people who have been a blessing just to know them. Mom's thin leather belt taught me to obey as most times I did because I learned to know that stern look in my mother's eyes, that she meant business. I rarely ever crossed her, my sister on the other hand; she was the wild one. I was the shy one. My allowance was the love.

Reviews

[Adam Adams]

This story seems to be relatable to most of 'em people's lives who trudged throu' very hard times... this is what I would say.

[Coyote Poetry]

We do learn from our parent. My father abused women. I became kinder and wiser because of him.
"I learned to love and to forgive, never forget."
My Ojibwa grandmother said the above words to me often. She told me. Holding hatred and regret. Can become a heavy load to be carry. Thank you Deborah for sharing your amazing words and thoughts.
Coyote