by Dagny Roth

Created on: February 17, 2009

The Suzuki Samurai was like a larger version of a cubed, cardboard box. About as big as those free standing TV boxes. Not that we had one, of course. It was a bright, turquoise color and would easily pass nestled among Floridian pink flamingo lawn ornaments and such. Behind the little car that could, was a small, grey trailer we bought out of the local, Lexington newspaper. The paint was peeling and we had to make a back gate out of a piece of plywood. The top was a bright blue tarp which we laid across all our material possessions and bungeed down to make the journey. It was no wonder we got such a good deal on the minuscule, crackling paint, backless eyesore.

There were six of us; six kids that is. We all piled into the jeep; a heap of children, like laundry tossed carelessly into piles. Our Stepmother (Mom) was driving since Dad had decided to come a couple days later. Angie, who was twelve at the time, got to sit up front. We were all jealous scrunched into the back of the jeep. She was the oldest and always the favorite or so I assumed since she looked just like our Stepmother (Mom) and I'm sure this kind of connection could not go without immediate approval. I was not proved wrong on this account throughout the hellish journey and life I would soon know. On the other hand, I didn't look like anyone. Christian, Winston, Jade and I, "The Four Originals" as I called us, were all from the same Mother (not the biased one driving; with hot pink blush and a turquoise sun visor; which I hoped to God she didn't purposely wear to match the jeep, though it wouldn't be beyond her Wal-Mart tackiness.) Angie and Justin were The Stepmother's (mom's) children from two separate marriages. One husband who beat her and one who cheated on her; an ironic amount of luck was bestowed upon this poor woman lugging a carload of brats across country. I wondered which she thought was worse; screaming children or abusive husbands? After all, you couldn't expect much from us; as we were stuck up in each other's grill. Being well behaved was all fine and dandy when you weren't forced to look each snot nosed sibling squarely in the eye. You just don't look each other in the eyes at that agethat's merely asking for trouble.

Christian, Winston and Jade were all our Dad's children but I had been adopted by him at the age of two when my Mom married him. So, you see, I didn't quite belong to anyone. I was under the impression in those years, that for all they cared I could've been strapped

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