Take What the road gives You

Chipped paint, loose shutters, and missed placed bricks pilling up here and there in the backyard. That was the description of the outside of my two bedroom one bath house I grew up in for most of my life. The outside appearance was only a portion of my shack I called home. The inside was total foulness. The living room was filled with constant cigaret smoke and dirty magazines scattered across the hard wood floor. The kitchen wasn’t a typical American kitchen filled with edible food a growing child needs. The bread was always molded and the water in the sink would always come out in an orangish, rusty color. The bedrooms were no different from the living room, besides the fact it was the only place I could escape from the strangers in the house that came during all hours of the day.
My little sister, four years younger than I, went to live with my mom in Louisiana after the divorce of my parents. I, Myself couldn’t bare to part from Dad. He needed my help, even thou...