When I think back and try to choose a person who has made the biggest impact on my life, I immediately try to think of people who have affected it in a positive way; for example, my mom, teachers or friends. But if I really want to write about who impacted my life the most, it would have to be seen in a more objective light. The person who has made the biggest impact on my life thus far would have to be my dear old Aunt Carmen, aka AC because she’s as cold as an air conditioner in the middle of winter. She is the aunt you love to hate.
Growing up, both my parents worked full-time jobs. This meant there was no one to look after my siblings and I after school. My mother realizing this hired AC, her older sister, to look after us. She would pick us up from school and then take us home and look after us until either my mom or dad relieved her from duty. These after school hours made a large impact on my childhood, as AC and I never agreed on anything. We would fight about absolutely everything imaginable and they wouldn’t be little squabbles, but World War III battles.
My most vivid memory of AC was one cool Thursday afternoon when I was seven years old. Every Thursday my aunt would drive my sister and I to my sister’s dance class, where we would be picked up by my mother and taken home. I always went along and watched the class because as an over imaginative seven year old, I was too afraid to stay home alone. On this particular Thursday however, my aunt decided that I was not allowed to come along until I went inside and brushed my hair. Seeing it as my duty to oppose her, I refused. She then went on to say that she would leave me behind if I did not brush my hair and I would have to stay home alone. My mind began to race. I had an important decision about whether or not to give up the fight or stay home alone. I then reluctantly proceeded to the bathroom to brush my hair. However I decided I was not giving up without a fight. I very slowly picked up the brush and leisurely pulled it through my hair. I continued my steady movements at a snail’s pace, little by little brushing my hair. While the slowest hair brushing in history was happening, I could hear my aunt yelling down the hallway for me to hurry up. After successfully brushing every hair individually, I skipped out to the driveway, only to find that my aunt and sister had already left. Mortified, I immediately sat down in the middle of the driveway and began to bawl. I sat there crying until my father came home an hour later. That was my first experience home alone.
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