They say when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade. What if life throws the lemons at you instead? Or better yet, pours the lemons directly onto your head? That's honestly what my life used to be, until something big happened to me that I will never forget. This is a story of how my life was completely flipped over, and how I over came my biggest hardships in my hometown of Bullgrove, Mississippi.

It all started when I reached the age of five. Daddy had two odd jobs that barely got us by every month, and momma had just gotten fired as a waitress over at The Smithfield Diner over on Washington Boulevard. I look back on the ride to school, I can remember it like it was yesterday. We were running late for the fifth time in a row, mostly because our old Buick was not starting up. I can remember almost feeling guilty, like it was my fault or something. But I struggled to find a reason why it could've been my fault. I'm like that usually. Mostly quiet and reserved, partly because of how daddy seemed to blame me for almost everything.

"Charlie!" my dad yelled at me from across the house. "Where in the world is my briefcase?" "I'm not sure, I haven't seen it around." I stated in a soft tone. "Great! Just what I need!" dad stated. He brushed me off and went outside to the barn. As he walked out, my mother came in through the front. Her arms piled high with groceries, with the weight of the world on her shoulders. "Charleston, sweetheart! Can you help out your momma?" "Right behind you." I said. She knocked me a slight kiss on the forehead and traveled on into the kitchen. "Where's your father?" she asked in a timid tone. I stated that he went out to the barn after we had a little dispute over his briefcase.

"It will be fine dear, your father has been really stressed out lately that's all." A few days later, my father came home with no briefcase. He was home later than usual too, and he seemed out of place. As I looked out the upstairs window, I could see my mother skip out the front door holding my younger sister, Kimmy. My mother had opened the door for him as usual, and grabbed his shoulder softly with a smile on her face. As I overheard them speaking with each other softly, I heard my father explain how the electric company wanted to give him a break. Looking back on this, I can see that I was too young to understand what was going on. My father had been let go from his second job. The job that brought food on the table. The job that would've kept the Buick running. The job that kept my father away from the alcohol. Since the car had troubles lately, my momma informed me that I would need to start riding the bus. I will never forget the sad look that momma gave me when she told me that. She loved taking me to school, even though we were late most of the time.

My mother tried her best to comfort him, but I could tell that she even had problems with comforting herself. As Kimmy started to cry for something she needed, my mother was repeateldy saying, "it's okay, it's okay." As the crying continued, momma ran back in the house to take care of Kimmy. I worked up enough courage to go down stairs a couple minutes later. Dad walked in when I came down. I acted like I didn't even notice him. "Shut that child up!" he yelled at my mom. He took his coat off, and went to the barn out back as usual. I no longer felt comfortable in my own home. Over the next couple of weeks, momma had balanced cleaning houses over on Cremson Lane and doing all the work at the house. Dad didn't touch her for days, let alone speak to her. I had never seen my mother more stressed out, yet she still had time to talk with me, and love me. The next day I had learned that my father had been let go of his main job. The job that payed for the house. The job that payed for my college one day. The job that kept us all together. I couldn't help but think that it was partly my fault. Maybe I was just preparing myself for what was to come. I knew that he had plans to blame me, I could feel it in my heart.

When I walked in from school the next day, our couch was flipped over, glass was broken on the floor, and most of our books had fallen off the bookshelf. I heard a soft cry in the kitchen corner. "Mom?" i asked. "Is that you?" She had gotten up from the floor, where it looked like she had been thrown. I asked her what happened, but she struggled to find the right words. After she regained enough strength, she said four words I would never forget. "We're on our own." she cried. Even though I was so young, I could tell what had happened. My father went on a rampage, just like when I was born and on my third birthday. 

As the days went on, so did the money. My father had left my mom with every responsibility there was in raising children. She did it by herself. The work, the house chores, the teachable moments. ALL of it. By the time I was seven we had stayed with distant relatives, in different motel rooms, and sometimes even in the car. While we were staying at my great uncle's house one week, we had learned that my father had passed away in a crash off of route 49. Even though my mother had despised my father's evil ways, she still had a big enough heart to shed a couple of tears. She had been broken up about it for a couple of days, but she had seemed to get over it eventually.

While staying at the motel in town one night, I remember looking back at my old home and all the memories contained withing the walls. It was a beautiful plantation home, right next to the bayou. I remember hearing the frogs at night, and the crickets chirping down by the water. I remember catching firefly's with mamma and Kimmie one night when my father was out of town. It seemed to me that the best night's were when my father was not present. During that night, mamma told me that no matter what happens in life, as long as you have faith, everything will be just fine. She explained to me that she has a vision of winning something big in the future, something that would change our lives. That Kimmie, mamma and I all prayed together for a miracle.