I was about to sleep right now when I thought of something and I wanted to post.

Sometimes, I think about my childhood and I cry. Not because my childhood was bad, but because I think about what my parents went through to raise us. They came to this country, not knowing a lick of English, with two kids in tow. My dad's first job was a janitor who cleaned empty buildings at night and my mom worked making minimum wage at a women's clothing store. I remember they saved up enough money to lease a run down toy store, and my father painted sad looking Mickey Mouse at top. It was in a really bad area so my dad slept there for awhile in fear it would get robbed. Later, when they collected more money, they leased a bigger store with some friends and opened a clothing store. This business never took off and the creditors kept calling. My father had to file bankruptcy and hung his head low.

And though it was hard for them, my parents gave us everything we ever needed. Without complaint, without so much as a moan. I never thought twice about going to summer leadership camp that cost about $400...I went like 4 times. I never thought twice asking my parents to drop a $1000 on a cheer outfit that I only used one year. They never asked why I needed it. If it was for us, they gave and gave.

I don't know. Sometimes I think that my life is so easy and it's so easy for me to forget all that my parents went through. They worked 7 days a week for most of their lives. For what? Was it for their fancy cars and clothes? No, really, it was all for us.

Here is a post to my parents, and probably yours too, who worked so hard all their adult lives in hopes and dreams that their children's lives might be better than theirs.