Chapter
One
I
was born and raised
in a small town in Ohio that was located smack-dab in the center of
Amish Country. It was a small town indeed. Granted, it was nothing to
brag about. I mean we had a bank, two gas stations, an ice cream
shop, a butcher shop that was known to all of us “small town folks”
as “Suzie's, a restaruant that was best known for its “Amish
style” mashed potatoes and gravy, a decent sized park with two
baseball fields, and one caution light in the square that would blink
red every second, just to remind you to stop at the only
intersection in
town. Then of course, there was
the train that would screech on by in all hours of the night, but
never seemed to bother most people. That was my town, and for the
longest time, that was my home. Good old Baltic, Ohio.
Now
there wasn't a single person or family who lived in Baltic that was
known as “rich”. My family was far from that, but my parents
managed. As a town, we all seemed to have “gotten by” with what
we had. My family did just that.
My
dad was well known around the town. It
was a town where everybody knew everybody, and let me just say;
everyone knew who Shane Renfrew
was. My
dad was strong and built like a successful working man.
He
owned and still owns a contracting company called “Shane's
Renovations.” When he first started out, his business was “Ceilings
and More Drywall” . My dad has
always been a hard working man, who would work long hours just to
provide for his family. Looking back, some of the most memorable
moments that I have of my dad from when I was a little girl was
seeing him come home covered in drywall dust. He would walk over to
the stairs and unlace his dust
covered boots and
aftwerwards, he would then empty
out his jean pockets.
First
came his chewing Tobacco-good old Copenhagen... with
the silver lid. Next
would come his brown leather wallet that seemed to have been attached
to him since I was born. Dad would count all of his money that was
left over from that
day at work. Then there would come the miscellanious things from his
pocket: paper shreds, receipts, pennies, and sometimes even a small
tool. (My dad was a tool man-nothing surprised me about his pockets.)
My mom would usually be in the kitchen when dad came home. I remember
seeing my dad, quite a few times, walk over to the sink, washed
his calloused hands, and when he was done, I would see him give my
mom a kiss. My dad was quite the “Nicholas Sparks”-very romantic
when
it came to my mom and him.
That was and still
is my dad.
Then
there's
my
mom. Words just
can't
describe her
, and I mean that with all sincere truth and love. Let me just say
that my mom..well, she's
who
I want to be like when I become a mother to my own children. My
mom's name is Gina. She is a person and a woman of pure elegant
beauty. When she smiles, she can light up any room that she enters,
and when I hear her laugh, my heart is full of joy. She is built with
the body of a true mother to two children. Strong. Brave. She
has the heart of compassion and has always protected her family,
especially my brother and I, just like a mama bear and her cubs. My
mom is the type of woman that I want to be simply because she is full
of life. When
I was little, my mom worked as a waitress at the same restaurant that
was known for the mashed potatoes and gravy. When I was around six or
seven, (I believe) mom stopped working and took on the job as a
stay-at-home mom. I
loved that about her...she simply quit her job to be able to spend
more time with my brother and I. My mom was the one person that was
always there after long, treacherous, agonizing, hours at school and
would, every single day, ask the same question when we got in her
view, “How was school?”. I always replied with the same answer
day in and day out, until the day I graduated, “Fine.” Today,
as I write this, I wish I would have told her about my days at
school. I just wish I would have told her.
I
have a brother who is three and a half years younger than me. His
name is Dakota and he will be eighteen in March and will graduate
high school in
the spring.
My
brother is extremely smart and intelligent. Great with finances and
budgeting, and if you were to ask me-I know for a fact that he will
do amazing things when he gets older! Growing
up, aside from all of the normal brother-sister fights, him and I got
along “mildly well”. Dakota and I were your
typical, somewhat well-rounded, children. We did everything kids do!
From sliding down the stairs in our mom's laundry basket, climbing
up walls like Spiderman, throwing
water by the five gallons onto my brothers (upstairs) bedroom floor
and pretending to “ice skate” (we got our butt's beat for that
one), to having dodgeball wars with egg yolks. I was the one who took
it up a notch and would dump all of the expired (and when I say
expired, I'm talking expired by a day or so) milk down the kitchen
sink. That was our childhood, and to me, that's the best thing about
life!
With
all of the being said, that is my family. That is my background of
where I come from.
Let
me just say that the story has yet to begin.
No comments:
Post a Comment