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Often I would wake to the screeching sound of sirens fading in and out above my bedroom window. I lived in a cozy two-bedroom apartment with my mother and two younger brothers. The walls were chipped plaster and the carpet reminded me of sticky green moss. My mother had just separated from her second husband, and our income was far lower than the national average. It was incredibly hard for her to support three children, especially in a city like Albuquerque, but she managed to keep us clothed and feed. Every night I could hear my mother cry alone in her room, and every day I promised myself that when I grew up I would make enough money to support her. I frequently daydreamed that I was a corporate executive flying all over the world in the company jet while sending great sums of money to my mother, so she could live the lifestyle she deserved. I dreamt that I would stand in