The story isn't much in the telling...
I was born.
I grew up.
I moved out.
I suppose there are those little things that happen to everyone. Those things that mold a person into something new, creating a more interesting, more well-rounded individual.
My first memory, which I thought was just a recurring dream until my grandmother and dad clued me in... I am standing at the front door. It is night and I am very young... maybe 3 or so. I am in a long nightgown, one of those girly things with ruffles at the wrist and around the hem which drags on the floor. My right hand is being held by an adult and I am being told to wave goodbye. Outside, in the night, there is a car with flashing red and blue lights. I am a little chilled but I wave goodbye like the adult beside me tells me.
My grandma, and later my dad, are amazed by this dream. My grandma tells me this is no dream. She would come over to our house at night after calling and calling with no answer. She would knock on the door and hear myself and my sister inside but my mom (dad was working the night shift) would not answer the door. This happened a couple times until my grandmother found out my mom was leaving my sister and I home alone while she went next door to sex up the neighbor. My grandmother warned my mo that if she left us alone one more time, she would call the police on my mother. Well, it happened one more time. And my grandmother made good on her promise and called the police.
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