This story contains mature or graphic content.
Sorry if I skip around, but the memories are flooding me.
I’m just going to try to do the best I can and I will be careful of details. I am going to try to input everyday to get things out, but it may be slow ... sorry. I will start with this ... My biological mother left my father when I was three months old and my sister was three. My father worked in the oil field as a roustabout and so he was gone seven days a week, sometimes sixteen hours a day. My grandparents kept us, and my father kept living in town. We lived in the house that I live in now. It is comfortable to me, and it’s home ...
Life was good for the most part. I have small little memories of me in those younger days, but not many. My grandmother was extremely reserved, and if you even came to her with a scraped knee, you were told to, “buckle up and take it.” There were no, “get well kisses for your boo boos.” My grandfather on the other hand was a gentle, laid-back, loving man. We mainly went to him for our hurts and thoughts. He understood more. He never rolled his eyes or looked down his nose at my sister and I. My sister remembered our mother, but I did not. We hadn’t seen her since she left. I knew my grandmother and grandfather loved us each their own ways. My father made a lot of promises that were never kept. His bar trips and bar women were always more important. He was married and divorced seven times by the time I was eight years old.
My grandfather worked in the oil field also and worked a lot of hours, but he was in a supervisory position and could take my sister and me with him into the field. My sister was more, dainty, girly girl, who didn’t wanna get dirty, and I was tomboy all the way. I would love to get down into the pits of oil and come out looking like a half dunked skunk. That was what my papa always called me. lol ... Well when I was eight, my mother called and wanted to meet with my sister and I again. My sister was overjoyed and I was too.
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