40 years have passed since I moved away from the dreadful place I used to call home, where I was treated like dirt and was constantly fighting with my mother. Most of the family used to ask me the same old question, “Which parent do you love more?”. Back then, I would have replied, “I love them both the same.” But now, after the last argument with my mother, the one that led to me moving towns just to get away from her, I will always answer in a stern voice,”I love my father more.”
All I could hear was the screaming of my mother's voice, yelling at me to do the housework. All I could think about is why my father needed to go on this oh so important ‘business trip’ of his. She, just like all of the other times this has happened, begins comparing me to my older brothers. “He is so …show more content…
I went to my room and packed all of my belongings into two massive suitcases and loaded them into my old Holden Astra. I took some money from my mother's stash, neatly tucked away, out of sight under the bottom drawer of her bedside table, and then left for the next town over. I found a cheap motel where I stayed a few weeks, trying to find someone that would hire a 17 year old girl that dropped out of year 11. I got a job working at some fast food place that I hadn’t heard of before, and I still can’t remember what it was called.
Once I started making my own money, I began renting a run down apartment in the middle of town, two blocks from the fast food place. The wallpaper was falling off, the carpet peeling up around the edges, and the entire flat smelled of urine, but it was a place to live.
Four long decades later, I live in a nice house with my husband and two adolescent daughters. I would not have been here without having that argument with my mother, though I do still despise her and have ever since. However, I have learnt that I should not argue with my children and love them both