I struggled to learn how to read and write in elementary school. Every morning, before going to school, me and my sister sat down to a breakfast our father prepared for us.
Typically, it was grits and eggs with tomato sauce poured over the top. Some mornings, we had cereal. For dinner, we ate fried chicken or pork chops with white rice, string beans and maybe some potato salad. We stretched these meals to make ends meet every week.
My father was a cab driver and he cared for three children on his own. It was hard. I never want to see those days again.
I am still struggling these days because of my mental illness. I have bipolar disorder and have trouble holding down jobs. I am homeless. I live in a shelter and sometimes, when I look back on my life, I wonder if this is my destiny. I hope not. I hope I can do better.
Thank you for reading. God bless.
