I don't recall the exact date my life flipped upside down. All I remember is the little eight-year-old girl who hid under the covers not knowing what lay ahead. I was hurried outside the room by my mother who was frantically pacing trying to figure out what had gone wrong. The man dressed in black with a badge over his left chest was doing everything possible to mend the situation. But her expressions were clear, my mother knew our life was about to drastically change. My home was one of the places I felt the safest. It was my shelter, my blanket, my harbor. My father worked a typical nine-to-five while my mother stayed at home and watched over me and my siblings. She has no job, and no degree, and all she had was love and hope for the future. On the day of the court ruling, my father was sentenced to twenty-five years in prison for fraud. My mother instantly went into fight mode. She realized everything from her life was stripped except for her three kids. This was her new purpose: to do everything in her power for her kids to live, even though it meant she was putting her life on hold. Home became a word used to cover the heartache we had entitled. That feeling of comfort completely disappeared as we moved through five new homes in the span of three years. Each place smaller than the last. My mother started working two jobs in order to provide. Dinner consisted of picking out food from the Mcdonalds’ dollar menu. The stacks of shoes that once lined my closet now fit in a single backpack. I went from having my own bedroom and bathroom to sharing a bed with my mother and a bathroom with my brothers. In order to cope with this overabundance of feelings I purchased a Journal. This was when I started writing and expressing my feelings as stories. I had found a new passion. After many years of trying to find positivity in a time of misery, I learned that home was a feeling and not a place. It did not matter what food I was eating, I had never once skipped a meal. The number of clothes and shoes became unimportant. All that mattered was that I had a roof over my head, food on the table, a family to come home to, and an amazing education. This is why I want to pursue a master's degree in Journalism. My goal in life is to tell stories that matter. My goal in life is to do what my mother and father were not able to do. My goal in life is to prove to my mother that her sacrifices were worth it. My goal in life is to provide for my children no matter the circumstances. My goal in life is to succeed.