My Head Of The Refrigerator

It’s the day I have to move to the army's campsite. I grab my bag and swing them on my shoulder, it weighs a ton it feels like my shoulder’s gonna break. Sophie was peeking through my room door, as I was about to stand up she ran to the living room curled up into a ball making loud thud and sobbing noises. Outside of the house, I hug my mom as tight as I could, I don’t want to move any single inch of my bone. I want to stay like this forever. I felt a drop of water behind my shoulder and I know that it was her tears. I don’t want to leave them but I have to. It was time to let go but she didn’t want to, I grab her arm and slightly push them back.

Growing up everyone argues and fights with their parents, some don’t even have functioning relationships with their parents. However for or me, my dad wasn’t really around and my mother struggled with addiction. Things began to take a turn for the worst on Mother's’ Day, when I had come home from being over my best friend, Paige’s house all weekend. I knew that

As I walked out of the courthouse and down the ramp, I looked at my mom in disappointment and embarrassment. Never wanting to return to that dreadful place, I slowly drug my feet back to the car. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and I didn 't want anyone else to know what I had done. Gaining my composure, I finally got into the car. I didn 't even want to hear what my mom had to say. My face was beat red and I was trying to hide my face in the palms of my hands because I knew what was about to come; she was going to start asking me questions, all of the questions I had been asking myself. Sure enough, after a short period of being in the

My mom spoke very little to each of us and seemed to be gone longer and longer each day until Saturday, which was moving day. That Saturday I had a band concert for relay for life at my local park. As the performance came to an end my best friend and I hop in the backseat of her mom's sweltering car and crank up the radio. We listen to our favorite throwbacks as her mom speeds down the streets rushing to get me home. As we pull in the drive, an unfamiliar vehicle idles in my driveway. Inside my house lays all of my moms belongings neatly piled up by the door waiting to be taken. My mom greets me at the door and introduces me to her boyfriend. He is much taller than me and talks down to me as if I'm a child. I cut the conversation short and sit on the couch with my dog Casey as they continue moving her things. After the last item is hauled away, my mom looks at me through the glass of the front door and says “I'll pick up Casey later.” and vanishes without another

Moving along with my adolescence years, mine and my mother 's relationship drifted further and further apart. I found myself in my own physically abuse relationship at the age of fourteen till seventeen. When I look at myself, I see so much of my mother and the women she is.

In that time, I never really knew what happened. I would always question my mom but she told that he had business to take care of. But one night, I saw my mom crying and I went to comfort her only to see she was holding a picture of my dad. Then, I connected all the pieces together and finally figured it out. I never got to spend time with him since he was always on business trips, and now I never will. After my dad died, my mom changed. She was more controlling over me than ever and hovering me most of the time. I knew why though, she didn’t want to lose me the way she did with dad. That’s why I don’t complain that much because I know inside she still misses him and I do

I wanted to do to my homework, eat and go straight to bed. That was however not my mom's plan. She tried talking to me about my attitude. I wouldn't listen. I ran to my room and slammed the door. I began thinking about running away. When I made up my mind I began prying at the window with no success. My mother, catching me in the act, told me “ If you want to leave so bad then go.” I did just that. I ran out the door to a playground nearby. I sat on the swing and began crying.

My mom was a single parent, that needed more support than she was receiving. My mother worked a full time job and she did not have much time to attend to my siblings and I. She left me in charge, a majority of the time, to take care of my younger sister. I had to do more chores than before. At times, I felt like I had more weight on my shoulders than I could handle. I never wanted to let my mom down. I always did exactly what she told me to do. My goal was to keep a smile on my mother’s face, if she said, Jump!” I said, “How high?” When Savannah left home, a lot of things changed. Not only did they change for the worse, but for the better.

Last year I had severe depression that caused me to have a bad temper. My mom, like any good mom would be, was worried sick about me. She approached me one day and told me her worries. I didn’t understand, I really didn’t think I was that bad. I sat in my room alone everyday and didn’t bother anyone. We got in a big fight about what to do. The previous year I had dont some therapy for family issues, and she wanted me to go back. She also wanted me to take medication. I wasn’t having any of it. I wasn’t about to go back and spill everything I felt to some lady I didn’t know, and I wasn’t about to take medication for an issue I didn’t even think I had. We fought like cats and dogs for almost a whole day. Just like Ulrich and Georg, the main characters in the short story “The Interlopers”, my mother and I didn’t want to talk or even see each other. I ended up at my best friend's house ranting and crying. My parents locked in there bedroom

I felt betrayed by her and the years I had devoted to her. Every glimpse I caught of her flushed me with disgust and anger towards her. I declared to never make music with her again. I ignored her presence and neglected her as she silently collected dust in her dark corner. A year quickly flowed by and one by one, the chairs, the couch, and the rest of our furniture started to disappear. As my family prepared to move to New York, our apartment in Toronto looked hollow and abandoned. I knew that she would be next to leave and I would finally break free from the terrible memory I never wanted to remember. Three weeks before our departure, a buyer finally appeared. My heart sank down into my stomach. It was finally a time to leave her for good. However, I felt no relief; rather I felt guilt and regret. How could I have given up on her? How could I have pretended our eight years together never existed? I had become too arrogant from only tasting the sweetness of triumph that I turned away from a challenge. I had blamed her for my mistakes and was too afraid to try again. After several days, a large pickup truck pulled up in front of our lobby. As my mom left to greet the buyers, I was left alone face-to-face with her. I dragged my feet over to her corner and reluctantly took a seat.

The heat burning under my cheeks grew with my annoyance as I peered at my mom fervishly pacing towards my band of friends, undoubtedly preparing to brisk me away, once again spoiling another night. While she drew closer, I noticed her puffy red eyes and flushed face, for she had been crying, a repeating occurrence since the divorce. Seeing this, concern quickly snuffed my fiery anger, and I accompanied her without hesitation. Nevertheless, we walked in silence for a few moments, yet I couldn't tolerate the suspense, throwing a barrage of questions at her trying to uncover the latest dilemma. Since I wouldn’t wait a moment longer she stopped dead in the middle of the street. Following this, my trembling mother gazed into my eyes, barely above a whisper said that my father had killed himself.

“Mom? dad? anyone home?” I walked into the kitchen and laid my bags on the table. “May ?” I hear my mom’s calm voice echo through the empty house. My palms started to slide off the table where I had placed my hands to lean on. I tried to build up the courage to go find my mom, but I didn’t have to I heard the loud echoes from her heels get louder and louder as she got closer to me. Before I saw her face I asked “could I go to the movies with Tom, Jenny, and friends?”

I rip my covers off my bed, throw my legs off the side, and rub my tired eyes. I start down the hallway, and find that the front door is hanging wide open. Beer bottles, and cigarette butts are sprawled out on the livingroom floor. I make my way out to the front porch, to find my mom swaying back and forth on her wooden rocking chair, staring at where my dad’s car usually is. “Where’s daddy?” I mumble. My mom slowly turns her head in my direction, and looks at me with glossy eyes. Something isn’t right. Without muttering a word, she motions for me to come sit down in her lap. I shuffle towards her, knowing what I’m about to hear isn’t going to be good. She brushes through my hair with her trembling fingers and begins to apologize. “Daddy left early this morning; I don’t know where he drove off to, but he told me to tell you that he loves you very much honey.” I began to tear up because I knew exactly what had happened. I learned what divorce was in that conversation my mother. I learned what my dad truly was: an alcoholic, and a drug addict. I learned that he chose a temporary high over his own family. Over me. I learned that I couldn’t trust my dad ever again. He left an unseen scar that will never fade

A time in my life were an incident occurred that had had a major impact on me was this summer. This summer was probably one the worst times in my life because my dad left my mom. He left us with nothing because my mom was the reason why they were no longer together. I couldn’t see my dad anymore or even talk to him. I was left feeling depressed and not wanted. At this point in my life I hated and I did wish I wasn’t alive at that time, It was such miserable time in my life were nothing got better it just kept getting worse and worse. I cried myself to sleep every night because I thought everyone hated me and that nobody wanted me. I was stuck babysitting all the time because my mom was out trying to make money. All my grandma did was talk about how horrible my dad was and how she wanted him to die. It just made me mad because it was my mom’s fault every part of it was but I couldn’t say that because I loved my mom more than anything in this world. I also knew she would flip out on me if i said it was her fault because she knew it was. The thing that made it ten times worse was that she found someone new and he was the biggest piece of trash ever. My mom is my queen, she is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I couldn’t imagine life without her . She just tries so hard to make everyone else happy that sometimes it brings her spirit down. I know she didn’t leave my dad to make everyone upset, she just needed a break because five kids and a husband who is always

Later that night, I joined my mom and dad for a meal at our table. At that very moment, they weren’t fighting. Considering thats all they had been doing for weeks on end, the awkward silence didn 't seem that bad. I’m pretty sure my dad cheating on my mom, and that’s why my mom always cried. When I got home though, it would turn from crying to anger. “It’s your fault,” she would tell me. Their fighting sparked a fire of anger inside my mom that could only be extinguished by using me as water. In my heart I knew she didn 't mean it and that she was just upset, but sometimes I wondered if it was my fault they fought all the time. Maybe I did something that encouraged my dad to cheat on my mom.