“Hey mom,” I would say waving to the video camera on one of my old family videos. Watching my family it brings back horrible memories. My name is Linzey and I am 16 years old, have a great family and a silly little sister named Remington. I’m writing this to tell you about my life. When I was about six, my mom told me that my dad had died of cancer. Even though I can’t remember him, I know he was a loving and caring father.
My favorite sport is volleyball, but I don’t recall if I was any good when I was little. I think I was at least decent though. I go to the school Rolling Hills and my friends are really nice to me and so are the teachers. The teachers are very helpful when my head starts to hurt really badly and I have to go to the hospital to get it checked out.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot to tell you that every time I just have the slightest headache, I always have to go to the hospital. I don’t like it there because I get the chills and feel cold inside like something happened there that I don’t remember. I hate the food they give you, it’s like mushy peas and carrots with a side of gross pudding. I also hate the hospital because 10 years ago the night when my dad died my mom started to drink more and more. Unfortunately, she chose to drive after drinking too much with me in the car with her. In my mom’s tiny rusty car she ran a stop sign and we smashed into a pickup truck. Our car started spinning out of control and flew up in the air and that’s all I can remember since I was six.
I am always afraid for my sister Remi when she goes in the car with my mom. I know my mom apologized and said she would never do it again, but I don’t know if I can trust her. Maybe one day if she see’s something that reminds her of my dad then she will just bring out the whiskey and do something to Remington or drive when she is drunk. Remi is six, so I don’t want her to be in a car with my mom when she has been drinking. That’s why I’m so excited to get my driver’s license so I can drive Remi wherever so my mom doesn’t.
Tomorrow is when I go to therapy with my mom and talk about our dad. I forced my mom to come so that she will stop masking her sorrow with booze. As my mom and I meet with Rachel, the therapist, I felt nervous on what my mom might say or do. As Rachel started asking my mom questions about my dad she was fine. Then the therapist asked the one question my mom couldn’t handle, “What happened the day your husband died?” My mother ran out of the room and drove home. I got a taxi and drove home to see if my mom was okay. As I walked through the doors I saw something heartbreaking. My mom was drowning herself in whiskey and chugging it. I started screaming at her to stop! I finally had to aggressively grab the bottle from her tight grip. I said, “You will ruin our lives and you will get Remi into a car and almost kill her like you did to me.” Everything went silent, my mom looked ashamed and her eyes were filled with sorrow. She looked at me, apologized with all of her heart and the next day she went to therapy and got the help she needed to be a great mother.
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