Your Unexpected Journey
A lifetime of memories has pushed much of my early childhood out of my mind. Only a few memories are left of my Aunt Kathy’s house save some blurry images of warm summer afternoons, the thick blueberry patch, and my cousins’ Lego collection. What my father lacked in a college education he made up for with his unwavering work ethic, but still, a blue-collar factory worker could only bring in so much money, so my mother would clean houses for a few friends and family to help make ends meet. Before I was in school, mom would cart me around from house to house, but I didn’t mind, especially when we went to Aunt Kathy’s. Her country ranch-style home was more modern and much less cluttered than our home. It was fun to feel the thick carpet underneath my toes and listen to the cows bellow in the neighboring field, but the best part of Aunt Kathy’s house was her overflowing cereal cupboard. With a bowl and spoon in hand, I would look up at what see...