Going home my daughter was 18 months old, I was 21.
There was still that girl inside of me wanting, seeking my freedom. My younger sister and my dad would always babysit for me after my DD (darling daughter) would go to bed. I’d go to the bars with my friends. I was behaving like a 21 year old with no responsibilities, no worries. Dating whom I wanted to date, doing what I wanted to do. Period.
Finally my dad yolked me up and told me that I had to get a job, I had to work. I had to learn how to take care of DD and myself. Or he was cutting me off, no car, no cellphone, no babysitting. I ended up with two jobs and running into my high school best friend. A girl I had known since we were in the 7th grade. She came to stay with my dad and me, and offered her services to watch DD as I worked.
I had stopped going out all together and then my friend decided we needed to go out to celebrate St. Patrick’s day, my sister agreed to babysit and be our designated driver for the night.
Little did I know that night would change my life forever.