CW

I stuck my tongue out at him; I admit that I was quite immature in my nature. Growing up seemed more as a job then a luxury and I was quite a lazy adolescent. My mother told me to never lose my childish enthusiasm and good things would come my way. My mother and I were very much alike in personality. She was born in a cottage on a horse farm in County Cork Ireland to the dreary country of England to study nursing. That is where she met my father, an aristocrat and an heir to his family’s fortune. Both of them came from very different back rounds and standards of living. My father used to tell me that the first thing he loved about my mother was her playful spirit and witty remarks. My mother’s fire red hair and green hazel eyes made her stand out; the woman whom he usually associated with could not even compare to her unique beauty. The high class women that he had known did not know the value of hard work as my mother did. They spent their days sipping tea and gossiping about others, while my mother worked in school to get an education. My father was a great supporter of education; he enrolled me into Benenden School in Kent and my brother into Roedean School in Brighton.
My father was a quiet, modest man who loved to be outdoors. He spent most of his fatherhood taking my brother out hunting and entering polo matches. It was my father who taught me how to ride a horse and how to play his favorite game of poker. He was unlike other fathers; he did not spent the whole of their time ignoring their wives and children to go drinking with their friends to talking about politics. My father was not much for politics and his best friend was in fact my mother. My parent’s marriage was one of the few marriages based on love. Father always told me “Do not dwell on a relationship that ended long ago. If you were meant to be with that person, you would have never survived this long of a parting.” He knew what my problems with love were before I even told him. When I asked him how he knew that dwelled on the past, he laughed and touched my shoulder. “Your eyes are like children’s books; they can be easily read.” My bewilderment as to how he always knew my problems still lingered to this very day. I supposed that his keen sense of people’s problems came naturally to him. His gift came not from reading books or intense study of the human mind; it came from his experience with people who did not always tell the truth.
Generations of his family had arraigned marriages that would sometimes end in disaster or a divorce. He was young for a father only being in his early twenties when my brother and I were born. My mother was only sixteen when she quit her studies to marry him. Within the first year of their marriage mother brought us to Earth.
When I was a child, mother told me of her life working at her family’s pub. She promised to take me to Ireland some day so we could meet her relatives. I would often dream about the beautiful valleys of green, the smell of the fields after the rain. When I was twelve my mother gave me a gold Celtic Cross; beautiful designs were engraved into the thin slab of gold. A deep green emerald was placed neatly within the cross. It was the only necklace I would ever wear; I was proud of my heritage. The Irish people never had it well off; yet their sense of optimism and Irish pride helped them bare through the turbulent times.
My grandmother’s distaste for Irish society was made perfectly clear when she did not give my parent’s blessing nor attend my parent’s wedding. The only one who consent the marriage was my late grandfather; everyone had the knowledge of his ulterior motive. This action was due to a vengeful husband trying to scorn the woman he was forced to marry. When my mother was bed ridden with my brother and I, my grandmother introduced him to the aristocratic single woman in hopes that he would leave my mother. Having enough with her indecent tricks, after we were born mother pleaded father to move far away. Unfortunately he was too reluctant to leave with my grandmother in her sickly state.
It took a couple of years of persuasion for my father to call upon his sister to take care of his mother while we moved to London. My brother and I were in a despair because we would have to say farewell to all of our neighbors and friends and say hello to the busy town of London