Since I was a kid, all I wanted was to travel around the world.
My family wasn’t wealthy, we were closer to poor, actually. After turning 7 or 8, I started realizing how hard my mom worked for us to eat enough and stay healthy, to keep us afloat.
Even after 8 hours of hard work, my mother had time for us, and she sat and listened to our stories and helped us with our homework and stuff.
I wanted to help her, when I was 12 I started searching for small jobs, I did all sorts of house work, installed IKEA furniture, painted walls, washed cars, cut the lawn, everything. But soon enough, I started to stress about how little I was earning.
Some “friends” brought “easy money making” ideas into my head, and I started working on darker things. Started small, selling cigarettes on the school grounds, smuggling alcohol to parties for money. Then went up higher, selling drugs and “harder stuff”
When my mother realized where the money came from, she begged me to leave the business, and I didn’t heard her. One day, after a trade, a kid shot me. I remember everything, he gave me money, and when I told him that there was a bunch missing, he put the gun on top and shot. He took all I had, but the saddest thing for me was that, he was barely older than me when I started on this business.
Bullet hit on a weak spot, my legs might as well recover fully someday, or might not, but for years I needed crutches. My mother was an angel, and paid for the rehab and therapies I needed, but I knew how disappointed she was on me, ran for the bad way and came out useless. If only I had listened.
My brother was no longer living with us, and my mother didn’t have the time to cook anymore, so I ended up helping as much as I could, by fixing meals for her. Surprise was, she loved my food.
I knew I couldn’t handle much as my legs where still kind of useless and frail, but since I didn’t need my crutches anymore, (to be fair, I still hobbled a lot though) decided I could have a small restaurant or a food truck.
My mother knew that idea could be a risk for our only money, but she entrusted me with it.
I moved out to a bigger city, and started small. I bought a food truck and set a 4 option menu. At first it was really tiresome, since I had to prep the kitchen, cook the food and serve, but after a month or so, my brother came to help. He entertained people, and kept an awesome control of the cash.
It became a success in a few months, it was hard, but it was worth it. We were seriously considering to move into a bigger place, but a lightning struck my brain, and I knew why I was there. I remembered why I wanted to make money so badly.
I sent my mother a package, it had plane tickets, tour guides and maps, cash and a little smiley face drawing with a message: “Enjoy the trip”.
Paid her a taxi to the airport and sent her to see the world. She deserved the longest vacations she could have, I sent her to cheap but wonderful places, so she could made the best of the little I gave her, all I wanted was for her to be happy, I had lost hopes on making her proud again.
But one day, mail arrived and surprised me. Not only she sent me a post card and some photographs, she told me how proud she was of me, she was on a deserted land near a lighthouse when she figured thought about me and my mishaps.
Maybe one day I’ll be the one to travel the world, but knowing I made her happy is all that matters.
I made it.
Went for the "without excuses" idea.
Hope it was easygoing, or at least not too hard too read.
