Life Alone

The playground in the summer was my life. All my friends were there in one confined area. I had a wonderful time and could not wait for Joe to show up and start us out with activities; playing Monopoly, learning to braid with plastic, playing softball, kickball, two/foursquare.You name it, we did it. We never went home for lunch. For me there was nothing there. My other worked too clean houses and my father has his job which he had hoped to shed when he was in Holland.

I remember my shoes consisted of flip flops. After all, the were only 49¢. I love them. I played so hard that I often didn't realize the sunburn on my feet. They would blister, since they were never exposed to continuous sun. I was having so much fun that I did not feel the blisters until the end of the day. At night I would pop them and my mother would treat them with some kind of salve. The next day I would put them back on, since wearing shoes would be too painful. Often we would play long after Joe had left. I remember climbing the 6 foot rod iron fence to get out. No big deal. I always made sure I was home before my father got off the bus.

Other times I would beat my mother home from work, dangling my legs out of the second story apartment, looking for her.

I had so much freedom, and it was the fear of my father that kept me line from getting into trouble. Essentially, those years; 3-5 grade, I raised myself. I'm sure it was not my mother's choice. It was just a reality that I had accepted or was oblivious of it since we lived in the Netherlands when my mom had to work in the theater to raise enough money for our first

TV and funds to come to America.