Brandon White

I Remember (HIM)

Ahh... The good days, carefree & without worry. The year was 2000. I was 5 years old. I can recall waking up on a Saturday morning to the aroma of PineSol & hear the gospel music playing. I knew what this meant; cleaning day. My mother would blast the music to wake up Pam & I. Pam is my older sister. We're 12 years apart. As I flipped the covers from over my head, I was dreading the thought of having to scrub walls & dust in places that should be forgotten about. All I wanted to do on this beautiful Saturday morning was scurry to the living room to catch my morning cartoons. This consisted of Barney, Dragon Tales, & Caillou (in that order). I would fix myself a bowl of Cornflakes & curl up on the couch for a day of relaxation. I normally could get out of doing household chores that involved fumes & dust because I had asthma. Pam hated the fact that I could get out of doing chores because that meant she had to do everything by herself. As I got comfortable on the couch, it didn't take long for my childish bliss to be disrupted by Pam & mom arguing. They were always arguing about something. Pam was 17 at the time. It seemed as if everything turned into a heated verbal exchange. "Why doesn't Brandon have to clean up, it's his mess anyway?" she said. My mom wasn't keen on answering questions that she felt she didn't have to answer to. "Because I told you to do it, that's why." Mom responded. I learned to tune out their arguing, it was just something that I had gotten used to. As they continued to exchange words, I could hear the front door unlocking. With excitement, I jumped off the couch & ran & opened the door before the knob could finish turning. "Daddy!" I screamed. My face lit up with joy. My father stood there with a huge grin on his face, picked me up and embraced me. My mom & dad weren't married, but they were inseparable towards each other. Their love for each other couldn't be bound by a piece of paper. It was just present. My sister & I have different dads, but my dad raised her as his own when my parents met. She was 12 years old at the time. My dad was everything to me. He was my hero. I looked up to him because he was always joking, laughing, & he always knew exactly what to say. What can I say? Life was good, I had my mom, dad, & sister all under one household. Everything was perfect. Little did I know that reality would soon set in, & life as I knew would it would take a traumatic turn for the worst.