How Being Poor Brought My Family Closer and Made Us Happier People

We weren't always poor. In fact, I was a fairly spoiled child, whose shoe obsession was satisfied weekly when daddy got paid. I also had a large collection of Barbie dolls, a play kitchen, a shiny pink bicycle with training wheels, and an overabundance of adorable outfits. But, over the years, as dad's alcoholism increased, so steadily did our income decrease. It all came to a head about six years ago when my father drunkenly stole my mother's minivan, played cat and mouse with the town police, destroyed the motor in the van, and subsequently, spent the next couple of years in rehabilitation centers and halfway houses. There my mom was, left with me, around age 17, my brother, 12, and my sister, 10, with a run-down home, a mortgage payment, a broken vehicle and a part-time job. I thought life was surely over and that we were doomed to a hellish life, but so started a journey that taught us self sufficiency, responsibility, creativity, humbled us, and made us into the strong, healthy and happy family we are today.