Mom's sister moved into our house when we returned to the small town. Life was altered, it was bitter sweet. As one life was ending in a sad way, the other was opening up. The struggles were not over. My Garden of Eden had changed. Was the fruit of the tree of knowledge always so hurtful? I knew we would move back at summer and that my mother would not return. She would get a job at home and live in her empty house. I was watching her age quickly as sorrow was sinking deep.
Hitting the books was now a serious business, we all became more serious. My oldest brother was sharper with me, yelling at me for making noise as he studied. That was really hard on me. He was trying to take the place of Dad. He was my hero, not my dad. But as the years went by I began to realize he had always been like a father to me, just eight years older, a kid himself, a handicapped kid fathering a handicapped kid sister. Dad had been his sense of strength. Now he had the burden of the entire family. Mom needed comfort and it was up to me. We walked a lot at night. It was an education my schooling could not give me, the grief of my mother.
I had to do better the next semester. I wanted to glorify the gift of my mother. And I did, I was on the honor role. It was the only time I did it. But I had to, I had to put up the extra effort. It is not easy being a perfectionist with a handicap. But when your mother is hurting, your brothers too, time and effort take on a different perspective, its easier to be serious. It was a tribute to them and the last semester I would have their support. The next year I would have to do it all on my own, even the finances of school. I would have to pay my own way and figure out on my own how to do term papers, something I always failed at but I had to learn as my classes were advancing and would demand long papers.
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