The time our Father left.

It was in a two story brick house in Rotorua.I was still only 3 .Dad stood at the door with two suitcases in his hands while our mother begged and pleaded with him to stay.I walked up to him and asked "Where are you going?" His response was " Im going away".I asked if i could go too and he simply said no,turned his backed,walked down the stairs,jumped in his car and drove away.For the next few days I would sit on the kerbside waiting for his car to drive up our street.I beleived he would.I would sit there literally all day long,but he never came back.This was the begginning of a spiral of deep depression for our mother who at times made our childhood unbearable.This was her 3rd failed marraige and was to go on in later years to marry another man,an alcoholic and child molester who hid behind being a christian within the salvation army.But that is a story for later on.