1.1 On My Own (MLC)

When I was in my early twenties, if you had told me that I would become a successful politician, a wife, and a mother, I would’ve been thrilled. However, life is rarely as easy as one expects. There are always sacrifices. When I was younger, there were sacrifices I was willing to make to achieve my dreams, things I was willing to do to attain power, compromises I was willing to make to secure stability. Now these sacrifices and things and compromises seem incomprehensible. If only I could warn my younger self… but then I wouldn’t have the life I had. It’s not all bad… but it’s not all good either. This is the story of how I became associated with the most notorious family in the South.

Here I am… fresh out of college. Questioning my fashion choices. Not my favorite grey peacoat, but my high-heeled boots in snow. It rarely snowed here, but the day I moved 1200+ miles from my university campus, the ground was covered in five inches of snow. As I stared at the beat-up rusted trash can outside my new home, I wondered if I would ever be able to find a replica of the famous Bridgeport cheesesteaks. At least the Crescent City jazz scene was only a short forty minute drive away. I was itching to hear the Bayuck steel drums live and in person.

It was January of 2404. I had just inherited my great-grandmother’s tiny cabin on stilts in the backwater swamps of the great state of Bayou. I was young, eager, ambitious, excited to make friends and connections, with a strong passion for politics. I wanted to make a difference and change the world. Doesn’t everyone in their own way?

It wasn’t until my senior year, final semester that I realized I made a critical error. I had neglected the important rite-of-passage – a political internship. Finding work post graduation had been tricky. I spent the last seven months answering phones at a temp agency and bussing tables at a bar on the wharf at night.

Ma said I could come home to the sunny beaches of Sultona. She promised me that she would find me a job through her connections to the State Assembly. But I needed to make my own way. I had vowed never to go back. I wouldn’t face my father ever again. Not without making something of myself first.

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Author Notes: Welcome to the first official chapter of the re-write of Colt Family Traitacy… now known as My Life with Criminals. If you missed the context for this decision, read my ramblings here. 🙂