When Motherhood Doesn't Start Out According to Plan
A whore with a white sk irt and black thong dancing around a fire set in my backyard. A half duplex with paint peeling off the siding , parked at the base of a hill by the railroad tracks in the ghetto industrial area of south east Calgary. Long bearded bikers with leather vests and oil stained denim walking in and out of my home as they pleased. A sketchy couple living in the basement spray painting every wall of the basement in colorful words of aggression towards my mother , who by the way had way too many boyfriends. Waking up with my sister, completely alone in a dark house realizing we were left at home by ourselves again. These are memories that helped me come to the decision that when I grow up, I was going to be married, have a stable home, be successful in a chosen career a...