A life worth living

My life before I ran away looked perfect, a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, a decorated officer as a dad and a stay at home mother. But if you looked closer you could see the imperfections. You would see that the beer in our fridge would only last for a couple of days. You would see my mother, always trying to keep my dad happy. And you would see the burns on my skin, where the cigarettes had left there mark. But you would have to look hard, to see these imperfections. They weren’t on the surface, they where kept hidden like a deep dark secret.

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14. The last chapter

Leila’s P.O.V

“But how did you get to where you are now” The lady asks, referring to the villa Jason and me have been living in for the past thirty years. “Well, after that everything happened so fast. We sold the engagement ring, and got a small apartment overlooking the park. It always reminded us where we came from, we still go to that park today. After that we both got jobs, I got a job teaching first grade and he got a job teaching football. We worked at that school, for ten years. And that is when I started to write books, about my life being a street kid. Bibbidi bobbidi boo forty years after we sold that ring, here we are.” I smile at the interviewer, who has been listening to this story for an hour now. She is writing an article about former street kids and how they do in life.  Jason and I did pretty well; we have three kids and six grandkids. Our kids are in there thirties now, Jason and I are in our sixties and our oldest grandkid is seven. Jason and I got married, and we moved into this house when we turned thirty. We got the money after I started to write books, and Jason started to teach football professionally.

 

Forty years ago I’d never imagined, that I would have a happy ending with the love of my life. I would never have guessed that a stranger, sleeping in my ally, would end up being my husband. All I can say is that I am happy it happened. I shake the interviewers hand and she walks to her car and drives off. I am sitting on the porch, on a bench. A bench I may have stolen from a park, to remind me were I came from. “They are finally sleeping.” I turn around and there is Jason. He is referring to the grandkids, who we are babysitting. He walks towards me and handles me a cup of tea. “Your favorite.”  He smiles and sits down next to me. “Vodka?” I smile reminding him of the old days, where we would drink vodka on this bench. He laughs and answers “Your second favorite.” I kiss him on the cheek.

 

“I love you Jason”

“I love you Leila”

 

The end. 

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