New York...

After leaving Charleston we headed north. My mother having friends and family in New York decided she wanted to go up there. By now dad was once again rarely around and I was largely at her mercy, of which she had very little.

That first winter was all but unbearable, I knew no one, I had nobody to protect me, and I was constantly hungry. The great thing about being hooked on drugs is you are rarely hungry, for the child of a drug addict it means you always are.

I eventually made friends with one of the neighbors children and managed to score a meal almost nightly through her. Before long I had a safe, clean bed a few nights a week as well. Eventually my mother became annoyed at my constant absence, and barred me from seeing the one person I had in the world. When I realized she was not going to give in I learned to whine, incessantly, and about everything, although I usually stuck to the basics, "I'm hungry, I'm cold, It smells bad here." I wore her down in the spring of my fourth year and she sent me to my grandparents.

My grandparents house was so different from my own that it was like stepping into a fairy tale. My grandmother lived to cook and garden and there was always something on the stove or in the oven. For the first time I can remember I knew what it was to be full, it was wonderful. I also learned what it was to be clean and to live in a clean home, that was such a foreign concept to me that it took most of a month to accept it. By the end of that summer I was a new person, I had been brought up to a healthy weight, I had energy, I was loved, and I was happy. But as we all know, all good things must come to an end, for me they did on my fifth birthday.

My mother showed up and informed my grandparents she would be taking me home. My things were packed up and I was pushed out the door with barely a moment to tell my grandparents goodbye. We went back home and life went back to normal, or at least normal for me. By Thanksgiving I was once again severely underweight and sick, dad came in and with him came money and food. He told me I needed to be eating more and made a point of feeding me every few hours. At first I could barely hold a few bites, within a week I was eating like a normal child again. Dad stayed through Christmas and then was gone again. I sobbed as he carried his suitcase out the door and made his way to his car. Once he was gone my mother walked out the door and that was the last I saw of her for several days. Thankfully dad had left a good deal of food in the cabinets and I managed to make it last for a while. I don't believe any food came into that house again.

Around New Years, I remember this because there were fireworks and lots of people visiting the neighbors, my mother came back. She took me to the shower and afterwards told me we would be moving. I asked where to but got no response and decided it was best to leave her alone about it and go find my things. I didn't have much to pack, a few well read books, three stuffed toys and a couple of outfits. We were out of that house that night and on the road.

More to come later, right now it's supper time and as you now know I understand what it's like to not eat and I don't like it.