Diary of A Former Nomad: My Story, Part 1

Often times I feel like we become so caught up in the future we forget where we’ve been and the things we have gone through. A few weeks ago, I made the very brave decision to have my story published in City Tech’s SEEK ink. Each semester City Tech’s SEEK students come together to publish their art, poetry, and stories in a magazine which is published. Stories are shared of struggle, pain, and happiness. This being my final year at City Tech, I wanted to leave my mark and tell my story in some way. It is who I am and the way I have adjusted to life over the years. Each Wednesday for the next few weeks I will be posting a part of the story which was published. I hope you stay tuned for what’s coming. So without further ado here is my story, A Trial Subscription to Life Part 1:

I was born in a small rural village in a poor country. My parents were young and tried to give me the best of what they could afford, which lets’ be honest, wasn’t much but it was always enough. Compared to our neighbors and others, we had more but there were still days when there wasn’t any food on the table or a job for my father. There was always something he did have to do and that was abuse my mother. My younger memory of my father is that he was a man of few kind words but a thesaurus of hurtful and painful ones, and actions too. I remember little to nothing from my younger years. I remember a green tool box which my dad kept all the tools he owned to his name inside, my mom dressing up as Santa Claus for my kindergarten Christmas party, a pet parrot named Robert and my uncle.

 

My uncle was more of a father to me when I was younger than my father ever was. I remember not knowing my dad when I was little because I thought he didn’t like me because all he would do was yell at me and curse. But my uncle was my favorite person. The first person I wanted to play with in the morning and the last person I laughed with at night. As soon as I could climb off my bed and my mom opened the door to our home, I’d run up the steps of the house we shared with him and my mothers’ sister. My day of consuming bliss would begin. I laughed like a child would with him. Although I cannot remember much about what we did, I do remember the laughs we shared. They were the type of laughs that came from deep within. They were the type of laughs that echoed in each cavity of your body and soul, and made you feel awakened. I haven’t laughed like that in years. I haven’t felt that awakened either.

 

My uncle was my favorite person, but unknowingly to me he wasn’t my aunt’s favorite. And even though the jokes we all shared would make her laugh and shed tears of happiness it wasn’t enough. For my mother the tears of pain she shed would be enough. And when enough is enough your life changes, perhaps unexpectedly like mine did. In the blink of an eye, all I knew was gone. There would be no more familiar laughs, faces, or places to be seen. And in that moment of my oblivious childhood, little did I know it was all a lie. My happy little life of enough was over.

 

Stay tuned for what’s to come next.

4 thoughts on “Diary of A Former Nomad: My Story, Part 1

  1. This is really deep and touching, and I’m on the edge of my seat. You’re a great storyteller, and thanks for being brave enough to share something personal like that.

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