My story:

One of the reasons I  started this blog was too tell my story, I will do it in parts, cause it’s long.

I pretty much grew up in my early years like a normal happy child. I don’t really remember any bad times, in fact I remember lots of happy memories.

I have a younger brother by 2 years and we had normal sibling quabbles and good times.

We were pretty lucky kids, we spent every summer at the family cottage. From the weekend that school ended at the end of June until Labour Day weekend we were at the cottage. Dad would come up on the weekends and often bring a friend or two of ours to spend the following week with us.

There was loving grandparent’s (on my father’s side only,,I never knew any of my mother’s side, strange I know), lots of uncle’s, aunt’s, godparent’s and cousin’s.

Summers were spent in the lake, hiking, fishing, campfires, with sweet’s of marshmallows, penny candy from the tuck shop, berries, and hot dogs and burgers.

 

The summer’s always ended with a trip the the CNE (Canadian National Exhibition) and back to school shopping.

Life was good back then.

My brother likes to say that we were poor. But, I don’t agree with him. My father always had a job and we were never homeless, we never went to bed hungry, we lived in a nice suburb in a nice townhouse and we had a nice cat and dog.

My mom was a stay at home mom. We would come home for our lunches during our junior school years. We always had home made meals, homemade cookies, cakes and snacks. I never had store bought snacks or packed lunches until highschool.

That was when my mom went to work.

That’s when I start to have memory’s of things making a turn for the bad.