About two
years ago when I was transitioning into the eighth grade, my mother decided to
get married to a man that lived in Botetourt County that she had been with for
about a year or two. I was a naïve thirteen year old at the time, so I thought
nothing bad about the situation. Looking back at this now, I now know I should
have been slightly warier. Anyways, after they were engaged to each other, I
started my final year at Hidden Valley Middle. Things were going great and with
the wedding coming up I thought it would only get better. After about a month
or two, we headed down to North Carolina for the wedding with a few close
friends and relatives.
The whole thing went off without a
hitch and we had a wonderful time. However, things became a little different
afterwards. When we arrived back home, my mother informed me that we would be
moving in with her newly-wed husband in Botetourt County. Again, I thought
nothing of this and tricked myself into thinking it was for the best. Then we
moved in and I realized my mistake. His house was large and spacious, but far
from cozy and glamourous. No matter how hard you tried, you could never fill
his house with light. It was as if we were living in a cave. The walls would
make small echoing noises whenever you knocked on them (he was too lazy to
actually make sure the architecture was up to code), but this wasn’t even the
worst of it.
Adding to the awful ‘house’, the
basement constantly flooded with cold, mud infested water that would reach up
to the ankle. When asked about this, he responded with; “Oh, yeah that happens
sometimes. I usually use a vacuum to get rid of it.” With saying that, you can
tell how high his I.Q. was positioned. Alas, my mother didn’t judge him for
saying remarkably unusual things like that. To add to the beauty of his home,
there would be constant noises of the house settling at night, which of course
always gave me a sense of unease. Also, it seemed as if his house was previously
owned by an older woman judging by the smell of musk. You could almost taste
the dust flying around the dormant rooms. As you can see, he didn’t have the
greatest house and wasn’t the best person for my mom.
After all of this, I bit my tongue
and didn’t say anything and decided to finish out my eighth grade year in
peace. Well, I did just that, but then my ninth grade year began. Considering
the fact that I was a new kid at Botetourt, I didn’t have many friends at my
new school. Because of this I spent a considerable amount of time alone. Aside
from the house constantly moaning and sending chills down mine spine, spending
this time alone wasn’t so bad. This is where I realized good things can happen
in not so good situations.
I finally had time to decide what I
wanted to do when I was older. My rollercoaster of confusion about what I
wanted to do was eventually eradicated. One person that helped me figure these
things out was my History 1 teacher. He was somewhat of a saving grace for me.
I viewed him as having his own golden halo. I told him where I wanted to go to
college and where I wanted to live when I was older. He replied with supportive
things like, “My wife’s friend attends that school. It’s incredible, you’d love
it.” He showed an actual interest in my aspirations that nobody else did.
Adding to this, he would go on to
give me tips and say, “You’ll do great, just get a job and start saving up now
so you don’t have to worry later on.” He really helped me understand what I
wanted to do with my life, and for that I am tremendously grateful. In the end,
no matter how unappealing the situation seemed, it was monumental in my life
because I learned so much about myself and who I was. I genuinely believe that
good things can come out of the worst situations.
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