A Family Story, Part II
I was 11 when I left my mother’s home. Before then, my older sister would come check on my little brother and I, making sure we had food. And when I left, moving between 4 different foster homes until landing at the last one at age 14, it was me who who looked after me, me who did for myself.
So family, is for me an interesting word. What is family if it does not offer the protection and nurturing it should? And who decides what you owe anyone, especially when not anyone feels they owe you?
At 16, I started working, first fast food - you know what it was, Mickey D's - then retail, even bartending. I was blessed to meet a gentleman or two along the way, who truly helped me. But family never took care of Marlo. And Marlo did take care of family, even at 17 driving to different Foster Homes, visiting my nieces and nephews, always helping them, loving them, taking them out to amusement parks and to have fun. I did for my mother; she could always count on me, I would always look after her. Her house is paid for and furnished by me, and she could always count on me to give her money.
But none of these things brings family together - if anything, it only tears them apart...