I never quite understood how two siblings raised in the same home could turn out so differently—at least not until my sister and I became adults.
Our mom raised us on her own, and as I grew older, I began to truly grasp how tough life had been for her.
I still remember the tiny apartment we lived in when I was young. Winters were bitterly cold, and the wind howled through the gaps in the windows. Mom juggled two jobs just to keep a roof over our heads, but it was always a struggle.
There were times when food was scarce. I’ll never forget the nights when our neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, would bring us meals.
