My Beloved Daughter,
My junior year of high school was more of an extension of the previous year than a year of its own. The only thing that was really special about that year was that I took Speech II/Debate, in which more of my views began to move from the left side of the political spectrum to the right. As mentioned in my last post, we had to learn to deal with Bridgette’s departure.
Mostly, it was just another year of waiting to see if my father would be legally declared disabled. Senior year found us seeing him finally approved. We didn’t see any payment, however, until the summer after I graduated.
We did see a payout, finally, from the long-awaited settlement regarding my father’s claim against the towing company that had fired him four years earlier—a paltry twenty thousand dollars, which seemed to me an insult, considering the condition of his lungs by this time. However, my parents accepted the settlement so that they could purchase a mobile home to place on our land and get us out of the house that we had been living in that was, quite honestly, falling down around our heads.
Although the trailer wasn’t new, by any means, it was a million times better than what we had lived in before. It was a single-wide with an extension that could be pushed out from the living room and kitchen to give it a small dining area and to make the living room a bit larger. My parents put the family television there.
The master bedroom, obviously taken by my parents, had a bathroom connected to it. The bedroom was a small, being large enough to hold your grandparents’ full-size bed, your Grandma Pat’s dresser, your Grandpa Chuck’s chest of drawers, and little else. The bathroom was also pretty small, although it did have a bathtub and shower.
The kitchen was the nicest part of the trailer. With the extended dining area, the kitchen was spacious with the stove and refrigerator on different walls and the sink in a counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.
The spare bedroom was tiny. It was just large enough for a full-sized bed and nothing else. A sliding closed door at least gave it the ability to store some things.
My bedroom, on the opposite end of the trailer, was about as large as your grandparents’ room. I only had a twin bed, so I had plenty of room for other things. I put my old TV in here, connected to my Super NES. I covered the walls in Spiderman posters and Black Cat posters, as well as cut-outs of provocatively-dressed super heroines that I had cut out from various comic book magazines.
I know . . . PREREDEEMED MIND.
I gave up the trunk that had been used as a table in the old house, as it fell apart when we were trying to move it. So, for gaming nights (which were, quite honestly, almost EVERY night), we all just sat around the room, creating epic tales that would entail entire generations of characters.
These games inspired me to take my writing to the next level. More on that in the next post.