March 5, 1937, Daly city, California I'm late. I've got to finish the dishes on time, otherwise no breakfast; and since I didn't have dinner last night I have to make sure I get something to eat. Mother's running around yelling at my brothers. I can hear her stomping down the hallway towards the kitchen. I dip my hands back into the scalding rinse water. It's too late. She catches me with my hands out of the water.
SMACK! Mother hits me in the face, and I topple to the floor. I know better than to stand there and take the hit. I learned the hard way that she takes that as an act of defiance, which means more hits, or worst of all, no food. I regain my posture and dodge her looks, as she screams into my ears. I act timid nodding to her threats. "Please," I say to myself, "just let me eat. Hit me again, but I have to have food." Another blow pushes my head against the tile counter top. I let the tears of mock defeat stream down my face as she storms out of the kitchen, seemingly satisfied with herself. After I count her steps, making sure she's gone, I breathe a sigh of relief. The act worked. Mother can beat me all she wants, but I haven't let here take away my will to somehow survive.
I finish the dishes, then my other chores. For my reward I receive breakfast---leftovers from one of my brothers' cereal bowls. Today it's Lucky charms. There are only a few bits of cereal left in a half of a bowl of milk, but as quickly as I can, I swallow it before. Mother changes her mind.vshe has done that before. Mother enjoys using food as her weapon. She knows better than to throw leftovers in the garbage can. She knows I'll dig it out later. Mother knows most of my tricks.
Minutes later I'm in the old family station wagon. Becaus I'm so late with my chores, I have to be driven to school. usually I run to school, arriving just as class begins, with no time to steal any food from other kids' lunch boxes. (I know its not a good place to end it but I'm really tired so sorry)