It's occurred to me that I've never really posted a detailed account of my life story, of how I grew up and of how I met and fell in love with my husband. Or rather that's what this blog is, perhaps, a work in progress where I can account for all of the events that have led up to who I am today. But there are things I don't want to forget, things that I can feel slipping as life moves forward. So I'm taking the time to record the details.
Chapter One // More Than Enough
Growing up, I always had more than enough. We had dinner on the table every night, new clothes for the beginning of every school year, cable television. It wasn't until we moved from Va Beach, Va, when I was around 10 years old, to the mountains of Pennsylvania, that I noticed that something was different.
Where we lived in Virginia was wonderful and I have so many fond and cherished memories of growing up there. I loved spending long days outside riding my bike around our apartment complex, or playing volleyball with my Dad and my cousin out in the street, using a speed bump as our makeshift net. No one cared about the clothes that you wore or what kind of car your parents drove when they picked you up from school. None of that mattered there. I was a happy kid.
Not long after my Grandmother's death my parents decided that were done with city living and that they wanted to reconnect with family up in PA, where both of them are from. For an entire Summer our things sat in storage as we traveled back and forth between VA and PA, trying to find a house for our family and work for my Dad. I won't sugar coat it, it was hard being a kid without anywhere to really call home for 3 months. My parents, little brothers (I had two at the time, a third to come later on), and I slept on couches, floors, and air mattresses at different family members houses. At one point we stayed in a motel for a week, and at another we stayed at a campground in a tent for awhile. But we made it through. My dad found us a nice little house to live in and when he couldn't find a job in his profession in the small PA town we moved to, he started his own business from the ground up.
Eventually we settled in to our new place in the world. Our house was tiny, only two bedrooms. My parents got one and my brothers shared the other. The house had a pretty large basement though, and with the help of some of m uncles, my Dad build me a wall and sectioned off part of it to transform it into a bedroom for me. I was ecstatic. I had my own space, set apart from everyone elses that offered a small bit of privacy. It was pretty much a pre-teen dream come true. And I made that space my very own too, plastering pictures across the walls and hanging my scrunci collection up (don't hate, it was the 90's!). I practically lived in that basement room, I loved it so.
When school started I assumed I would blend right in. I don't think I could have been more wrong.
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