A Turning Of Age

It seemed to anybody from the outside looking in that I had established a relativly normal life.My mother on one of her adventures had now been gone for five years,and my father and I had comfortably settled into a life of stability and routine.Both which are very important in a childs life.

We gave up the comforts of our two bedroom home shortly after she left and moved in with my fathers mother.She was a very religious lady,and the preferred laguage of the house was french.My father being french himself as well had chosen not to teach me the language in the presence of my mother out of sheer respect.I was eager to learn this new language that had now been introduced into my life,and was picking it up very well.

My father kept his job and I was left to be tended by my grandmother,and also a retired school teacher that the family had allowed into there home after hard ship of her own.I spent many sundays on the slippery pews of the french catholic church,listning to hyms that were being sung in praise of the lord.

Every bit of free time my father had outside of work was left to me.His paydays consisted of greasy treats,and shiny trinkets that I insisted I had needed.Although his money was tight he tried to provide me with what I felt as a five year old I needed.

My sixth birthday was one of the happiest memories I have of my childhood.My grandmothers home style cooking could be smelt throughout the house,which usually meant an occasion and gathering would come.I dressed in my sundays best,gave thanks for the feast that was prepared for the family,choked back what little I could on my plate and rushed outside to see what surprise my father had awating me in the old woodshed.

It was what any younge girl had ever dreamed it could be,a purple and pink banana seat bike with training wheels.It had shimering silver tassels on the handlebars,a slick white seat built for two riders and a shiny bell that rang out the most wonderous noise you could imagine.

Standing in complete awe of the gift before me,my father then presented me with my next gift.He told me that my mother was in town and had wished to come for a visit on my birthday.At this point in time I had no recolection of a mother figure, only the few items she had left behind in her move. I had seen how many of my friends had interacted with there mothers, and was excited that I would finally be able to put a physical sense of being to the woman I had only seen in photographs.

As I was test riding my new bike down the bumpy dirt driveway,a car slowed down on the street in front of me.I sat in a trance like state,trying to sneek a peek of my mother through the sun streaked glass of the car window.I could feel the excitment build inside me like a cage of butterflies awaiting the release back out into the wild.

The car stopped only half way up the drive,the door opened and my mother appeared before me.I stood staring at her,with the sun shining through her dyed blonde hair I thought she looked like an angel.Now fourty-seven,she looked aged and tired.The crows feet in the corners of her tired eyes were deep and prominent.The many wrinkles on her face were still visible even with the  streaky foundation she had applied in hopes to hide.Her hair frizzy at the ends from the many dye jobs she had applied herself from cheap kits you could buy in the local store.None the less in my eyes she was everything I had ever imagined my mother to look like really. She quickly ran towards me with her arms extended.As I was a very shy child,I was not eager to accept her gesture of phsical contact right away.Sensing this she offerd instead a pat on my head,and talked about how much I had grown over the past six years.

She continued to finger my long,brown hair all the time chit chatting with my father in the driveway of our home. I didnt really uunderstand at the time the conversation they were having, I just knew that what seemed to be friendly greetings at first,turned into an all out screaming match. I was encouraged to go inside the house,so I could not hear the on going bickering outside.

After a few minutes my father entered the house with a gift in his hands that my mother had brought for me,and a look on his face that to this day I will never forget.Another trama related memory was about to come.....

The End

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