Is the world really an oyster

I was born into a sorrow because my parents were at the end of their relationship. We moved 37 times by the time I was six. We lived in cars and hotels tents and campsites. My father was a gambler and my mother was in love. She chased him till she ran out of gas and by then I was six. She finally stopped and we settled down that we were very poor and I remember watching my mom and begged food for us kids door to door because my dad had gambled away the food money. Life got better once we settled down and she met a man who she ended up staying with for 40 years. He treated as well well enough as if we were his own children mostly and I love and miss him dearly as I do her. I would go to California to visit my real father on occasion and while he was out gambling or with a prostitute I would sit in the windowsill on the 7th floor of a hotel that overlooked a fountain in San Diego dangling my feet and watching the people below. I never did know how dangerous that was or how being alone at that age in San Diego wood and could cause me such pain and shame but it did.

6 responses to “Is the world really an oyster”

  1. So touching story!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, I’m actually a better person for it I think. I appreciate the small things sometimes in life and I say sometimes because I miss a lot too. But thank you for your comment and reading my post


  2. I am sorry to hear that. That’s a difficult childhood.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yeah but it made me the badass I am today right LOL


  3. Inspirational piece of writing.

    Liked by 1 person

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