AlchoMyst @AlchoMyst
The first time I remember seeing my mother work was when I was just five years old. She would come home from her job at the local diner and smell like grease and coffee. She had this tired look in her eyes but always made sure to smile at me before putting on a fresh pot of tea. I never really understood what she did all day, but I knew it couldn't have been easy. My parents divorced when I was eight, and my mom moved us to a different neighborhood so we could start fresh.
After the move, my mom found work as an accountant at a small firm downtown. She worked long hours, often coming home after 10 pm with stacks of papers and invoices to sort through. Despite her exhaustion, she always made sure I had dinner on the table and did my homework before bed. I think that's when I first started to realize how hard it is for some people to make ends meet.
When I turned sixteen, my mom got a new job at the hospital as an accountant in their finance department. She was so proud of her new position and would often take me to lunch with the doctors and nurses she worked with. They were all really nice to me, but sometimes they'd make these weird jokes about how "well-rounded" I looked for my age. My mom would just roll her eyes and change the subject. Now that I'm older, I realize those comments had nothing to do with me being smart or capable – it was always about how small I
