The wonder of the word if.

During the times I was born in this world as a child growing up to adulthood I had always been asking myself at all times the words of if happen or if didn’t happen my life will be different. I was born in Asia in a small country name Laos. The day I was born I was left in the care of my grandparents with aunts and uncles. Fast forward at the age of five I was reunited with my parents that were living in Paris, France. They had sponsored me their child to come to be a family. My father had also sponsored my aunt and uncle they were my mother siblings. Even at that age I asked myself if I didn’t came to meet my parent’s will I ever know who they were. I thought my aunt was my mother instead since she was looking after me at the concentration camp in Thailand. My most memories of the day that I had met my parents were the scary ones. I was clinging at one of my aunt legs and wouldn’t let go. Even when she I had said “there is your parents go meet your mommy and papa.” I was still hanging on to her. I was having difficult times adjusting to my new environment. My parents were strangers hardly show affections or love. I was thankful that my aunt was living with us she was the only person that was there for me. She always comforted me when I was crying from the beating of my father. If my aunt was my mother she wouldn’t allow my father to beat me with a belt or be mean to me. If that woman was my mother why she was there to defend me from my father instead she let it happen. If that was my mother she didn’t show the nurturing of motherly love to me. The worst things happen in my life it was the day my aunt left us and moved across the ocean to a country called America. I was nine years old I had cried the entire day if I wouldn’t my dad said he’ll beat me. If I was my aunt child would I’ll be the happy kid in the world. I wouldn’t know the answers to my question. For the replacement of my aunt leaving my parents had asked grandma to come to be our babysitter to me and my brother that was just born. My grandma always spoiled me when she could without my parents knowing. I was the helper to my grandmother when my last brother was born I was eleven years old. I had learned to be a babysitter and became an expert at it. My second terrify experience was the day my second brother got second degree burns on him. I got blame and yield at for not looking after my brother good enough. He had slipped away from my care while I was holding my baby brother in my harms. He had ran out from my room to the kitchen naughty as he was back then he got himself burn from the huge pot of soup that was on the top of the fridge when he tried to open the door. If I had played more attentions and care that wouldn’t happen but it did. If my parents weren’t stupid enough then they shouldn’t ripped off his clothes by doing that it peeled his skins they supposed to cut his clothes making it worst they put toothpaste on the burn skins thinking that will cool it off made it burn more instead. I cried none stop my brother was in so much pains and he was only two years old at the times. If he wasn’t wearing that diaper he would had died probably or his body will be disfigure. I had the supports and caring of my grand-ma during the tough times. Few years later grand-ma left us because of a dispute with my father it was the saddest of my life, she went back home. Things I couldn’t understand during those times if I was an older then I would have. There was so much drama and chaos during those years it made my parents angry at each others they started to fight at all times so many things I couldn’t understand. My father was a bad tempered, controlling man. My mother was a self center, selfish woman. They weren’t very good parents at the end never showed any love or affections towards their kids. At the age of fourteen I had saw my mother changing her personalities. She started to smoke, drinks and went out a lot more. She was also trying to get to know me suddenly by talking to me and involving herself with my school activities. But there was always a catch at the end. Since my grand-ma left I was looking after my two brothers I was a sister and a caregiver I felt that I. My mother was counting on me at all times to look after them and doing the house duties. She was the mother that came home from work had her dinner on the table; the rest of the household duties was taking care by me or my father. She wanted to become my friend all of sudden the reasons she wanted me to take her sides when she was fighting with father. Stupid of me I did take her sides. If I had understood then I would had be more understandable toward my father. My mother put all the blames on my father for her unhappiness. I couldn’t understand the night my parents got into a fight my father lost his temper then hit my mother. I hate to see my mother being bitten I called the cops on my father. Few years later I realised myself and found out all the reasons of my parents feuds. My mother was cheating on my father. If my father had told me the true in the beginning I wouldn’t hate him so much.
At age of fifteen my parents send me to America they told me I was just going there to study and I was going to live with my aunt my father sister. But they forgot to tell me that I was supposed to tell the airport custom that I was just going to visit family instead. I was detained at the airport for hours until my aunt asked for me. It was hard for me to adapt to a new language. When I met my father sides of the family it was difficult I couldn’t speak any English or Laotian. I understood Laotian spoken with a broke speech mix with French. My father mother spoke to me in Laotian constantly since she couldn’t speak English at the end I caught up and know how to speak as well as I can without the fancy words. I got to know my relatives from my father side they were some what dysfunctional families. Who could ever thought that my grandfather would be living the upstairs apartment with his second wife ands kids and having his first wife living downstairs with her children.