Joseph B.
7/6/11
Priester
Autobiographical Narrative
Final Draft
Comprehension of Maturity
In the typical American family the kids treat their mothers with disrespect, they take advantage of their family and they don't know how good they have it. Unfortunately, I have been departed from my mother since I was two years old. Due to my unfortunate circumstances I have had the chance to build a close relationship with my brothers and my sister. I am currently living with a foster family and my brother. My other brother was separated from us and is in a group home. Our whole family has been mixed up and corrupted but I will continue to strive for one big normal family again. I am now thirteen although I haven’t seen my mom since I was eleven. To see my mother would be one of the greatest gifts I could have ever received, so I thought.
It is 5:30 p.m. and I just finished packing my bags and my sister, Monique pulls up in the driveway. She drove all the way from L.A. to pick me and my brother up from City Heights in San Diego. She walked to the door and knocked frantically. She was sweating and you can tell she was stressed out and on a mission. She had her hair up in a bun, and she had on sandals, jeans and a shirt. We loaded the car with our bags and said goodbye to our foster family. As my sister started the car she stated that she found our mom’s old number and she called it. Some man answered and said she lived a couple streets down from that house which happened to be a couple blocks away from my foster home. It was a great coincidence and I was ecstatic about the fact that I was about to see my mother. It had been so long, I was very nervous.
We were driving for approximately ten minutes and we went to my mother’s original house. The man who answered the phone directed us to her new living space. I say living space because this “home” was a mess. It was on a one way street which we had to learn the hard way and almost got hit driving the wrong way. The house was surrounded by a fence with mounds of junk piled across the yard. There was a broke down car in the driveway and in front of the stairs that lead into the house. Behind the fence were two dogs. One pit-bull and a husky dog with only three legs and I was not about to knock. My sister yelled for my mother and some guy with no legs dragged himself out to the yard. We asked for our mother and he went inside to get her and came back out in his wheelchair. He moved the dogs and my mother ran towards us. I felt so happy when she came out. She hugged my family and when she hugged me I stopped and stared at her for a minute. She was skinny, dark, she had short hair, and she had craters and bumps on her face because of all the drugs she had been using. A feeling of sorrow swept my mind because a picture of her popped up in my mind of when she was young and I was only a year old. She was beautiful and now she was some tom-boy living with a guy with no legs and probably high as I stood there. I ignore my thought and hug her. She squeezes me and tells me she loves me and I believe her. She talked to my brother and me as we were still young, but I was used to it because she does it every time we see each other. We all stood there talking when my sister got the idea that she should take our mother with us, so she can maybe rest and get her stuff together. I loved the idea and was totally for it. We told our mother to get her stuff so she walked over to the neighbors; some closed down store, and grabbed two huge white trash bags. All these little things she did and how she was living angers me a little more inside every time and I know this is not what she deserves. It almost makes me cry every time I think of her and what she deserves for creating such a special family. She deserves the world, but besides the fact, she loaded all of her bags in the trunk and back seat. We were squeezed but we didn’t mind. We pulled out the drive way and Mom asked if she can stop by the store because she was thirsty.
It was now 5:30 p.m. and we drove to the store. I followed her in and asked if she could buy me a Dr. Pepper, and she said, “Yea I’ll bring it to the car.” As Mom walked out she emptied most of a can of squirt, poured a little bottle of vodka in it, and downed the whole thing. As my mother entered the car she and my sister argued about the alcohol. We started to drive and my mom started tripping. I would try to avoid slang, but I don’t know another way to explain it. We were all joking and I said something to her and she looked back and started laughing. I too started laughing and then she had a blank stare and started saying something in Spanish. Her face showed emotion in each word. Her mouth was shaping every letter and her face seemed so strong. Although the only words I can make out are a couple cuss words and God. Then she started laughing so I too joined her, and then she started speaking Spanish again. Well, at least I think it was Spanish because she was mumbling it so low it was hard to comprehend. I was shocked because after all we’ve been through and after an hour of seeing each other she cusses me out. I didn’t know how to react I just sat there. My sister also realized what was happening and I could tell she did not know what to do either. Then as we drove my sister noticed we were going the wrong way because she was so nervous and she wasn’t paying attention. My mother then was almost massaging Monique’s neck with one hand and Monique told her that we were going to head back. Mom didn’t like what she said and sort of pushed her head which made her neck jerk forward. It is hard to explain but it was also very shocking. I was crying because I didn’t know what else to do. My mother was so strange I felt as if something was wrong with her and now she laid her hand on my sister. My sister also started crying so she pulled over at a McDonald's. Everyone, but she and Mom left the car so they could talk. My mother was continuously touching Monique and then throwing her off of her. As they were hugging for about ten minutes my sister gestured us to almost help her because they were hugging for so long. We stepped in and they stopped. I guess they spoke about taking Mom back home or about her drinking but whatever it was she understood. We parked across the street from our mom’s house this time so we would not get hit and we all got out. We had to jay-walk and everybody ran except my mother. My mother just walked and as she did a bus was coming. My mother didn’t mind it and she casually kept walking although we were are yelling and telling her to hurry. As the bus came to a screeching stop a couple feet away from my mom all she did was spit at it and kept walking. It was terrifying. We gave her her bags and said goodbye. I knew that this was the best thing to do because my mom wasn’t the same mom I saw two years ago. I believe the drugs have a big part in her actions, but it doesn’t change what she did. I almost think that it was my fault because I vouched for her to join us and whatever anyone else said I would not change my mind. I wanted her to change and I thought that this was a great opportunity, but then again she is about forty-two so she has had many of those. I don’t know why, but I thought something was different.
Now it’s about 7:30 p.m. and we all loaded in the car. We were silent at first, with blank stares and then we slowly started talking about the situation. We ended up being hungry and we ate fast food. We all continued talking and ended up going off topic. The rest of the ride I enjoyed because all we did was talk and enjoy each other’s presence. We ended up driving until 10:30p.m., but I was still sad. I didn’t show it, I just sat there with no look of expression on my face, but not really all there. I was mainly thinking. Just thinking of my mom and wondering how my mother could act like this. Just sitting there asking myself and then I came to realize that it’s her morals. Her motivation is absent, her reason is gone, and why should she change? She has come to realize what took me 13 years to comprehend. The comprehension was maturity that basically settles my useless hopes. They are only useless due to the fact that they will never occur. Until that night I wouldn’t let go of my mother.
That is only because since I was young I always had a thought or that little, naive hope that my mother would be able to take us back. My visit with her only matured myself mentally and I grew on that experience, taking advantage of any opportunity that arrives to succeed and grow. I was surprised with my visit with my mother, it turned out different than I had expected. I was sad, although I sat there and thought. I thought how at first I still had hope of being able to have a normal life with my mother and brothers, but afterward I saw my mother and she showed me different. I realized how she would never really be in my life as support or as a real mother and I moved on. She will always be my mother, but I know I will emancipate from the system because I am 18, and not because I’m going to live with her. I now see myself heading towards a university and success I probably couldn’t do that if I didn’t let go of my past. This is the definite example of “everything happens for a reason.”
