How I Was Raised.

How I Was Raised

I remember at a very young age that my father would come home very late at night and be gone the next morning before I woke up for school. I had always wondered why my dad was not around the house very much. My mom had always told us, “Your dad is working”. I just thought he was never around because he didn’t like to be home with us. My parents both worked very hard raising all six children. My dad would farm eighty hours a week, and my mother was a full time bakery manager. She would work endlessly to help provide income but it seemed like there was never enough to go around. That is just the kind of person she was. She always wanted to give us more, it just wasn’t possible. I can still remember having to wear clothes that were acquired from Goodwill. When I was in middle school, I used to hate the first couple of weeks of school because I would see all my friends in new clothes, and I was wearing something that was way too big, or the opposite. Work didn’t just stop with my parents. I can remember very early in my life, my older brother and I had chores that had to be done. All my friends played and lived carefree lives while we had enough work on the farm and at home to keep us busy from sun up to sun down. My father was very strict about getting a job done, and getting it done right. He would have us working in the garden for hours. The garden was a source of food for us. If we didn’t tend it, then we did without in the winters. I can remember one time the family had just sat down for Sunday dinner. My father asked “Has the garden been weeded?” “Not yet,” my brother replied. My father stood up and grabbed both of our plates and took them back to the kitchen and dumped them in the trash. He then told us that until our work was done, we didn’t eat, because if we didn’t work the garden, then none of the family would