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Description
We would all scream, my step-father to shut us up because forty thousand is on the line and the rest of us because we either had nothing to do with the mess- which for all of us it is just the opposite- or simply because we are tired of yelling. Either way there is usually a climax-like moment in which someone is hit and a loud yelp hits high in our already clogged eardrums.
   On this particular day there are some pillows tossed on the ground and after our mother dumps three large archaic tweed suitcases on the ground by the TV- yes, our step-father is going to be unforgiving for this mishap- there are clothes, some of my mother’s cheap lingerie and about half a dozen bottles of Budweiser scattered among six pairs of shoes. How beautiful life is. So beautiful that today proves to score as the breaking point.
   While my mother searches through her purse for a cigarette and the rest of my unfortunate family begins digging through the hopeless pile, I slip out unnoticed with my almost empty pink backpack and head downstairs towards the lobby. I have planned ahead for this moment and left a note at the cheap plastic desk while my mother dumped not one, not two, but all three of our bags. It was simple and to the point:

I might be back in a few days, as well as I might not.
Either way I will keep in touch and call by tomorrow night.
Good luck on the Poker Championship. Love, Naomi.

   In my bag I brought only what I felt was essential for the next few days- my CD player and headphones, two Radiohead CDs, tooth brush, toothpaste, a couple of thongs, $643 from last summer’s work at the local movie theater and a L’Oreal make-up set my uncle gave me for Christmas two years ago. I also brought “The Dharma Bums”- I have read it almost seven times since I bought it three months ago. With that I wave goodbye to the fading sea lion up on the motel’s roof and hit the road.

Description
We would all scream, my step-father to shut us up because forty thousand is on the line and the rest of us because we either had nothing to do with the mess- which for all of us it is just the opposite- or simply because we are tired of yelling. Either way there is usually a climax-like moment in which someone is hit and a loud yelp hits high in our already clogged eardrums.
   On this particular day there are some pillows tossed on the ground and after our mother dumps three large archaic tweed suitcases on the ground by the TV- yes, our step-father is going to be unforgiving for this mishap- there are clothes, some of my mother’s cheap lingerie and about half a dozen bottles of Budweiser scattered among six pairs of shoes. How beautiful life is. So beautiful that today proves to score as the breaking point.
   While my mother searches through her purse for a cigarette and the rest of my unfortunate family begins digging through the hopeless pile, I slip out unnoticed with my almost empty pink backpack and head downstairs towards the lobby. I have planned ahead for this moment and left a note at the cheap plastic desk while my mother dumped not one, not two, but all three of our bags. It was simple and to the point:

I might be back in a few days, as well as I might not.
Either way I will keep in touch and call by tomorrow night.
Good luck on the Poker Championship. Love, Naomi.

   In my bag I brought only what I felt was essential for the next few days- my CD player and headphones, two Radiohead CDs, tooth brush, toothpaste, a couple of thongs, $643 from last summer’s work at the local movie theater and a L’Oreal make-up set my uncle gave me for Christmas two years ago. I also brought “The Dharma Bums”- I have read it almost seven times since I bought it three months ago. With that I wave goodbye to the fading sea lion up on the motel’s roof and hit the road.