by Erika Cormier

Created on: March 23, 2009   Last Updated: March 25, 2009

When anyone asks me about my childhood I reply most of the time with my first recollection. It was perfect. We did not have valuable posessions. We never went on a family vacation, not even over night at the local beach. We did not eat lobster or prime rib, in fact I did not experience these food until after my teen years.

Most people can say they have experienced luxuries at some point in their child hood. Even if it takes coaxing them into realizing it. But us? Never. In now way at all did we have "luxury". But what I did have, was love. Constant love. Constant support, guidance, appreciation, comfort and all of the things that I now know really matter.My mother was a large part of my positive shaping. She was the popularly ideal, but rarely experienced mother figure. My mother was "born" to be a mom. She loved all three of us, and she showed it every day, no matter what. I think that is what defines a good parent. Not showing it when you had a bad day. Not taking it out on your children when you are stressed out. I never had that experience growing up. We never knew that my parents struggled financially. We had everything that an average child had. Christmas presents, birthday presents & parties, thanksgiving dinner, bicycles, etc. My mother cooked dinner every day and she baked for the family every night. She brought us all together to create memories, she was the rock.

After many years of happiness and oblivion on my part, I suddenly realized that my perfect childhood which I was so grateful for, had come to an end. It was a whirlwind which changed my mother into someone I no longer recognized. Someone I did not want to be around anymore because she was a betrayed. My father had an affair. My mother knew it, although she never could quite prove it. But she finally did. After years of heartache and turmoil in our family, my mother for the first time in her life, at 40 years old, moved out and got her very own apartment.

She had never had to work to fully support herself. Now she had to. She had always had her days filled with raising her three children, the chaos of being a stay at home mom. Not anymore. I remember going to her apartment for the first time and she was so proud. It was her little tiny space of her own, and it was a new life. Not a life he chose, nor one she ever thought she would have or prepared to be in. But it was hers. She said she wanted to set an example by being strong and moving on. Not to cause us any more grief by the constant

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