April 9th, 1933

My dad came home around 7:00 that night, with a devastated expression on his red rosy face. He walked in discretely, not greeting anybody with the protocol "Hello." I looked to my mom whom was staring at him while baking chocolate chip cookies. MMMM... The awing smell of the chocolate chip cookies was not even enough to put a tiny smile on my father's face. He went to change into his pajamas, while my mother and I had the same perplexed face, but my mom was trembling with fear dropping the spatula while I was distracted by those chocolate chip cookies. After my dad reunited with us in the dining room, he didn't have the appetite to eat, but all he did was stare at me, until finally... he murmured something.

"Timmy, I need you to leave. I-I-I," my father was chocking, hardly breathing. My mother came to aid him as he attempted to finish the sentence. "I lost my-my job to-today, and I'm sorry but you-you have to go." My father burst into tears, and for a moment I was overwhelmed.

"Leave? But why do I have to leave? I thought you cared about me and loved me!" I shouted.

"Goddamn it Timmy! I lost my job, don't you get it? You're an extra mouth to feed and now, I do not have the money to support all of us."

It seems like this happened millions of years ago, but it was only two nights. Now I am standing in a group of boys ready to ride the rails with only a journal in my hand and a goal in my mind.