On The Rocks Research Paper

On the Rocks

The night I knew that things would never be the same between me and my mother was the night I moved to Bangor. It was a frigid winter night. I had just returned from my basketball game arriving home around 12am to see all the lights on in the house. Walking in I was met by pungent odor of coffee brandy and the droning of a steady bassline. Stumbling through pools of mixed drinks my mother and her boyfriend made their way out of the kitchen. The two began questioning me on my whereabouts even though I had told them I had a game earlier in the day. I guess they forgot. Getting infuriated with my responses they kicked me out in a drunken rage. I forcibly made my way back in just long enough to snatch a pair of shoes. I made my way 2 miles across town in no more than a t-shirt, gym shorts, and sockless loafers. It was -12 degree below zero that night. I knocked frantically on the door of my close friends

The one thing that made me worry was my family life. My mother was always a fighter who would do whatever it took to keep food on my plate and clothes on my back. She never had it easy raising me by herself from a young age. Watching her struggle to make the best for us was always difficult given the fact that being so young myself I couldn't do anything to support her financially. I always heard discussions of worry and wonder. How will we make it through the week? Where will we stay? Being the momma’s boy that I was I tried everything in my power to try an solve my mother's problems, to not see her cry, to be everything she needed. I remember when I was only 5 years old I snuck into a neighbor's back yard and picked the nicest flowers from their garden and proceeded to sell them to people in the nearby houses so that I could bring my mom the