There were many reasons why we were always hungry. So many, in fact, we really had no idea why we were always so hungry.
One of those reasons was becasuse there were so many of us. Six of us crammed into a small appartment. I can’t remember if it was in a good neigborhood or not, I was to young at the time to recognize that sort of thing. I remember being hungry.
It did occur to me that I didn’t have many toys, and my wardrobe was most likely comming from donations, I didn’t mind much of anything at all, besides the hunger.
My Mother, worked the night shift a local grocery store. My father had left, dissapeered, to this day I still don’t rember quite why he left. Even decades later, after I met him again, after I forgave him, he doesn’t quite remember why. I remember being hungry.
I remember one night, when the hunger was bad. When it bit harder than ussual, and we all felt it. I remember it vividly, the small portions of Beans, and balogna grilled and served like a stake, half a slice each. The youngest started to cry, she demanded more, and complained. Her plight was heard, and commisseration spread. We pleaded to our mother for more, ‘We’re still hungry Mama, why can’t we have more’ my younger brother asked, his plea was soon followed by a chorus of complaints. We had been hungry, and we didn’t understand why.
There was no more food to give us, there was only the portion my mother had saved for herself, and now she was crying, as she divided it into six equal parts, and served them to us. Us older children protested, understanding her sacrifice. But she had already made up her mind and dismised our arguments, told us to finish eating, and sent us to bed. We were still hungry, and I was still awake as she left for work that night, hungry.
