Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Memoirs of a Trailer Park Girl

I was thinking about my last post and realized that some people reading may not understand my humor. I think if they read many of my other posts that they would quickly realize that the whole "trailer park" thing was all in fun. After all, I came from a very meager background, even lived in a trailer long ago. I am sure that some of my family still live in trailers. Who cares?

As a matter of fact, I loved our trailer. It was my home-mine and my mother's. I thought it was a great place. One room was mine, one was my mom's. The rooms were attached by a small kitchen and living room. We didn't have a lot, but I didn't notice. I was happy- we were happy. I had all the toys that I needed. I thought it was so cool when I wore my princess pajamas around on Halloween night one year. My mom made me a wand and a crown out of aluminum foil; I don't think I wore shoes. I was so pretty.
I had a record player that was orange and folded up like a suitcase. Man, I loved that thing. I had little records thrown all around my disastrous room. I kept my room like a pig sty. One day my mom came in my room, saw that I had stepped on some of my records and they were broken. I remember her sitting on my bed and crying. It is only now that I know how she felt. I called her a couple of months back and apologized. She didn't even remember- but I do.

My mother had me when she was sixteen. In high school she discovered she was pregnant, was horrified and even tried to throw herself down a flight of stairs to end the pregnancy. She was scared of her parent's reaction, and probably more scared of being a mother. Thinking back to when I was sixteen, I can certainly understand why. She made it through, got her GED and put herself through school, getting a computer technology certification from a local technical college while working nights at a fish house. My mother did the best that she could, and it was plenty for me. She did marry my father for a brief time, but he was no father. He wanted to be free and single- not tied down with a wife and a kid. He still continues to be a phantom, coming into and out of my life only for brief periods. I suppose that may be all that he can give, it continues to be the way that he lives; but, I make no excuses for him. I do not bear grudges or miss his presence- he was never there, so how can I miss what I have never had?

All that I am, I owe to my mother- who worked so hard to provide me more than the trailer park. Standing here today, I feel that I have beat the odds. I am no longer that trailer park girl. But, I am in no way ashamed of where I came from. Those things have made me who I am today. I look back on those days fondly; because, they were wonderful for me. So, my mother was very successful at mothering at such a young age. Because mothering is all about raising (or rearing) happy and healthy children.

I know it is late, but thank you so very much, Mom.


Kelly L said...

I love this post because I can so relate.. I came from very modest means...I remember hiding my shoes so I wouldn't have to go to mom gave me her .99 flip flops so I would go...we were poor but we had love and hope and our imagination.

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