Hello everyone, I am somsome17 and I am super excited to be in this awesome community. This week's topic is 'barking up the wrong tree'. Well, guys, due to the nature of my job and how distracted I've been, no story was coming to my head. But the urge to write something made me reminisce about the years when I was still a teenager.
It was another Sunday afternoon. The weather was hot and the environment noisy. My parents and I were back already from church.we attended a pentecostal church,I love singing and I was a dedicated chorister in my church. Being a chorister in church is a lot of work,daddy used to tell me that serving the lord is a good thing. But sometimes I find it really stressful, I needed some sleep because I was so tired from rehashing after church service for 4 hours that I felt frustrated and irritated. Even with the loud sounds from the churches around our house, I still managed to throw myself on the bed and sleep.
There I was, enjoying my sleep, already in dreamland when I heard noises from outside the house. I didn't second guess, I just knew it could be my parents arguing again. It was a regular thing in my house that every Sunday my 'beloved parents argued'. On Sunday, it is said to be the Lord's day, but in my house, it was 'Doomsday'.
I wanted to go back to sleep but i couldn't, i had to go check what was going on and know the reason for the argument. Yes i was fifteen years old at the time, but i was also curious. With my sleepy face i walked outside and met my mom crying...
For years I hated my dad for making my mom cry, I wished he could just leave us alone, I wished he would just go away and we'll have some peace. With the anger in me I didn't even ask what was going on cause my older brothers where already with my mom consoling her. I ran back to the room grabbed my pillow and cried till I fell asleep. I had to endure the Sundays I stayed at home with my parents, until I gained admission and left for school. When I lost my dad,things became difficult that after he died my years in school became a living hell. Some days I ate just ones through out the whole day while other days I slept without food, unlike when I was at home and ate whatever I wanted.
Actually my dad was never a bad person and he loved his family, he provided everything we ever wanted but I thought he was bad cause my mom was always the one crying when they argued. My dad too had his own flaws but the thought of my dad and the struggles he went through to provide for us "his family" made me sad. Because it was not easy for him to provide for a full time house wife with 10 children and still be disrespected.
My mom was not supportive in terms of finances and that made dad upset, it was not like he earned much. My dad never kept us hungry and my mom has a sharp tongue. I feel so bad that i only realized how important my dad was after he died. I my brothers and my mother wished he was still with us. We realized how much he loved us too late.
I guessed I "barked up the wrong tree".
This post is in response to inkwell weekly prompt.
