Tearing Down My Familys Stolen Home

When I first entered the workforce, my mother laid down the ground rules.

"I need fifteen hundred a month from you to help out with the family," she told me, her voice brooking no argument. "We're going to build a custom home on the family lot. When it's done, you’ll finally have a bedroom all to yourself. Plus, I’ll be putting some of it away for your future wedding. You know you’d just blow it all if you kept it yourself."

I believed her. I believed her so completely that I practically bled myself dry trying to scrape together that fifteen hundred from my entry-level salary.