There were only three years between my sister and me. She was the younger one. My father worked as a manager at an electronics shop and my mother had a position at the local bank. We lived in a pleasant flat. My parents always put on smart, new clothes, but for us, they bought clothes in bigger sizes so we would grow into them, and trousers and shirts were worn until they were threadbare and full of holes. As a child I hardly gave it a thought. It was only when I started school that I began to notice how the other childrens parents treated them differently.
The parents of my classmates purchased beautiful new outfits for them each year while I wore the same old things for several seasons. We didn’t eat well either. Sweets or meat rarely appeared at our table. I recall coming home from school one afternoon and catching sight of my mother and father sitting together in a café, sharing cakes. Whenever we asked for something, mum and dad were quick to snap at us. Mother would look sternly and tell us, We havent got much money, and you cost us enough as it is.
I remember feeling a sort of embarrassment, as if we were making their lives uncomfortable just by existing. My parents refused to pay for my studies, so I was forced to work hard to earn a scholarship. Everything I achieved, I did on my own. Now, as a grown woman with children of my own, the reason for their behaviour towards my sister and me still eludes me. If they didnt want children, I struggle to understand why they had us at all. Resentment has made it difficult for me to reach out to them, though I know I ought to let go.
