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I spent most of my childhood growing up way too fast in a world where I couldn't outrun poverty. We lived day to day wondering where the next meal would come from, at times we did so going from one campsite to another with no place to truly call home. Most of the places I did call home provided not much more than shelter from the cold nights in the mountains of Northern California.

My dad was a chemist of sorts, spending weeks at a time working away from home trying to perfect his deadly concoction. We were not supposed to know what he was doing, but children are smart and we knew more than most adults would ever learn or any child should ever see.

Attending school as a poor child who was rugged and dirty was difficult, no matter how hard I tried I just didn't fit in. The other kids at school never tried to understand, and as cruel as they could be I always knew why. I was the child in class who couldn't have friends over, partly because of the drugs and partly due to our lack of modern technology. No one wanted to have a sleep over in a house with no electricity, running water, or indoor plumbing.

I was somewhat withdrawn most of my adolescence, understandably so I guess. Friends were something other kids had and family didn't feel too secure, such is life...

When I was 13 my Grandfather came to visit, I never really knew him before then and still I loved his very presence. We spent a great deal of time together as I learned to do some construction work. Grandpa was building my brother and I a bedroom of our own outside the house and we were his helpers. He saw something in me during his visit, something beyond the shy, quiet child who was so often sad. I think that he was the only person besides my Mom who ever tried to see who I was. My mom knew, she wanted so badly for me to be the best at everything I did.

Mom and Grandpa got together and decided they would do whatever they could to help me achieve my goals. I had wanted to be a model, I had dreams and they were now in my sights. Underneath the rugged country girl I was on the outside, there was a beautiful butterfly waiting for her chance to fly. My grandpa funded a trip to Sacramento and mom got me an interview at Barbizon modeling academy, I was on my way!

The day of the interview my mom helped me fix my hair and do my makeup, and a friend of hers loaned me a very sophisticated dress and heels. I had never before felt as beautiful and carefree as I did that day. I walked into that interview not as a poverty stricken, sad child but as a beautiful young woman who had a dream. I was confident for the first time I could ever recall and it felt good.

It took less than five minutes for them to accept me, I was tall and lean with long flocks of glowing red hair. I will never forget how accomplished I felt when the director welcomed me in as a student at Barbizon Modeling Academy. I was overwhelmed with hopes that this would end the cycle of poverty not only for me but for my whole family.

I never missed a class, my mom and I made the four hour trips on a three wheeled motorcycle and I got ready when we got there. Nearing the end of my schooling I was scheduled for a photo shoot, the pictures would start my portfolio and I was ready for placement. It was all too perfect to work for me though, life got in the way and I was forced give up my dream.

Things had gotten extreme at home and my mother had tried too long to make life better for us. She had been attending truck driving school in Oregon in order to better our lives. She was well on her way to ending the bitter sweet lifestyle we had become accustom to. Mom was tired of living off of the California welfare system and mentally exhausted herself with worries, I was so proud of her for making such drastic changes and knew it was all for us kids.

Unlike mom, dad had no desire to be free from the system or from a life of poverty. He was happy in his world where he was the king of kings. He lived day to day, always on the brink of disaster with only one care in the world, his next batch.

I will never forget the day mom gave up on dad, or rather the day she gave me a chance at life. She found out about the weeks my brother and I spent alone while Dad was out gathering supplies or polluting the world with his passion for street drugs and took a leap of faith. She had it all arranged and no one was the wiser. I was in my room when Mom came home from school, she didn't say much but somehow I knew it meant more than anything I had ever heard. Mom handed me a blue suitcase and told me to pack some stuff. I only had room for that one bag so I could only take what I really needed. I don't recall thinking even for a second that we were going on a vacation, but I knew not to ask too many questions.

My brother and Father had gone to town and as we loaded into her friends car I wondered what would become of our family. I boarded the greyhound bus with no idea where it was headed. It wasn't until we pulled into the station in Los Angeles that she told me we had left dad and would be staying with a man in Beaumont. Shock and fear overwhelmed me and I had no idea how I should feel.

When he picked us up he brought a balloon for me and roses for my Mom and I tried to recall the last time I was given a gift for no reason. He drove us to his house in Cherry Valley and it was all I could do to contain the amazement I felt walking in there. There was a working outlet and light switch on every wall and the water came from the faucets. I felt like a human, one with hope for a future finally.

Was it wrong that I was glad to be gone? I loved my Dad, he was my super hero. All the love in the world couldn't mask the emotional trauma I suffered in his care but he was my Daddy and I was set on defending him. Looking back I see that I never made it easy for my step dad and yet he never gave up on me.

Afraid for her life and mine Mom made the decision to leave without telling anyone and we were as close as it came to being fugitives. We were hiding from my Dad and his associates, I couldn't call him or my brother for fear he would be able to track the call. We drove an hour away to mail letters and never gave any clues as to our whereabouts to anyone.

I was very happy in my new home, I missed the rest of my family and friends and often felt guilty about being so happy. The man we had moved in with was like a dream father, he did everything in his power to provide for us and secure our future. I proudly viewed him as a father, the kind I had previously thought to be non existent. He always attended school functions and tried to teach me values as I transformed into a young woman. My step dad had a great deal to do with my growing up strong and free spirited. If you were to inquire to him whether or not he ever had kids he would say yes, we may not have carried his jeans but we were never judged for it. He stepped up and finished raising us and I applaud his strength because we were no angels.

The life my Dad lived did take it's toll on him, not only did he lose his family but he also lost his health. At 34 he had a massive heart attack and has been deemed terminally ill for the past 13 years. Everything he has been through has made him a different person today and I am so thankful for that. We are friends for the first time ever and he is a beautiful person. Dad hasn't got much time left in this world and I am very happy to be a part of what he has, his ultimate payment for the way he chose to live will be his life. I intend to make sure he knows he didn't lose my love despite his wrong doings all those years ago.