Eat. Move out.
I made the most out of what I had back when I was a boy. We wasn’t very rich and cancer overtook Mama when I was only eight. Daddy and I lived with her shadow in that same little childhood house on the lake. I miss her like crazy, especially then. She used to clean the house real neat for the family, make us grits and bacon on weekend mornings, and she even tended a pretty little garden. That same house wasn’t even recognizable by the time I was eleven. We was in debt from her chemo, Daddy was one of those old-fashioned types that didn’t know how to clean or cook nothing, and our house got broken into and robbed all the time. Still, he didn’t let me see none of that anger he had. At least not first hand.
