My earliest memory that actually means something to my life is from when I was about four. It has to be then because my mom would have just had her third child, my second little brother. It had to had to be then because he left after she had him.
I was in bed, getting ready to fall asleep, when my dad walked in. He sat down next to me on the bed and had tears leaking from his eyes. I asked him why he was crying, and he said "Because I love you, Princess." I told him I loved him too.
That's the entire memory. I've always had it, and I didn't know why. A year or so ago it clicked as to why I've remembered that. That was the night he left. The night my dad left my mom alone with three kids aging newborn to four years old. He left her completely alone. Actually, it's possible my mom left him. Considering he was cheating on her. I don't actually know, but no matter who left who, he left us.
And that is where I'll start this story.
