Concrete Walls Without Windows Are A Prison To A Child!

My sister has always said this big eyes photo reminds her of us as children living in the basement. Except her pet was stuffed.

After my mother and father divorced our mother married a Yellow Freight driver that she had met while waiting tables in a truck stop. He was quite a bit older than her. All of his kids were grown and gone but one. My mother brought all five of us with her.

Unfortunately our mother was the only one of us allowed upstairs in the home with the exception of a bath or dinner. And lord forbid we didn’t chew our food slow enough or rested our arms on the table.

Being the devout christian that my eldest brother was, he found himself preaching in the smoking lounges. Which led to people at school hanging him by his cowboy boots over banisters. He eventually went to live with our father and his new wife, that didn’t last long. A couple from church took him in.

The step brother living at home didn’t get along with one of my brothers. Even concrete walls couldn’t keep them from fighting. We had no windows, that I can remember anyway. My sister and I spent so much time down there that one time we crocheted with our fingers a rope that reached a mile. Asking to go out to play in the winter wasn’t a good idea. When a parent tells you if you go out you are staying out, a child doesn’t understand the consequences. It was freaking cold. All I know is we wanted to build a snowman.

I don’t think that my sister and I handled the dark confinement of the basement well. We were not locked in, but knew there were consequences if we didn’t have permission. We did have tv and clean beds. It wasn’t horrible, just depressing. Thank heavens mother loved us more. She divorced him a year to the day of their marriage. We moved and all of us were together again. I loved singing with My eldest brother his praise and worship. I was happy he was back with us. We had a great summer. Fishing and playing and being kids. But those basement walls are forever etched in our memory. My mom finally found us a home, no more rentals. Which ended up being “The little house of horrors”. My mother was a wonderful mother. She wasn’t home a ton. She was working multiple jobs. When the parents are away the children will play.!

Published by Jill L. Ware

Hello! I am a lot of things. First and foremost, I am me. Like it or leave it I believe God made me just as I am. That I need to go through these trials and tribulation to become who it is I am meant to be. does it suck? yes it does. I have two sons and three granddaughter and one on the way. I've been diagnosed with bipolar and borderline personality disorder for several years. This is a way to let my words out, get them out of my head. You are not alone in your struggle with these diseases, it's exhausting trying to be normal. Or what we percieve as normal.

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