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Reflection on writing personal narrative
Reflection on writing personal narrative
Reflection on writing personal narrative
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A lesson that I learned for good. When I was five years old and the year it was 2005. Me and my mother were home like any other day. It was a Monday morning and everyone left the house except for me and my mother. The reason why we were the only ones left is, because my sister was at the age where she could go to school. As for my father well he’s the man of the house so he has to go to work.
My other brothers were much older than me so they went to middle school. The reason me and my mother were home is because I was too little to go to school and my mother was the one that had to take care of me. So as the monday the morning went by my mother started making breakfast. When she opened the fridge and started look for the ingredients. When she saw that their was only juice she laugh and said “the struggles”. Then she turn around and said to me “we are going to
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I quickly took off my seat belt because I was very uncomfortable in my booster seat. Me and mother made our way inside wal-mart. We were greeted by a women she told us “welcome to Walmart”. My mother took me straight into my McDonalds and bought me a small breakfast. Me and my mother sat there for about a good 10 minutes eating our breakfast. Then went straight to shopping. My mother was shop for groceries. Then it started getting very boring, but then I saw something that caught my attention so I wonder off. Once my mother saw that I was missing. She quickly alerted the manager there and they had to shut down the whole Walmart. They eventually found me hiding within the clothes. I smiled at my mom and said to her “you found me”. Her face was furious. She thanked the people at Walmart for helping her find me. Once was got into the car she was yelling at me and telling why would I do that.
The car ride was very quiet all the way home. We went inside the house and then she gave me a big spanking. After that issue I quickly knew never ever in my entire life I would do that
The time I was lost at Walmart, I was six years old I was mad about something and that’s when I started wandering off somewhere until finally I turned around my mom was gone I looked all around couldn’t find her anywhere the feeling of me being by myself without know one being here with me to protect me or be here with me, I felt like I lost her forever and that I can’t find her anywhere because Walmart was like a huge store so it was gonna be tough to find her, after a while I started crying and calling her name “mom!”, at that moment one of the employees at the store helped me find my mom by operating on this entercom and called her name luckily I knew her name because if I didn’t how else will I suppose to find her, next they called her
Then my mom pulled in and went inside and smelled popcorn and saw the popcorn on the floor and she came outside to yell at me. I got in trouble and then we ate dinner.
I’m 10 years old, but don’t ask about my parents their dead. They both died when i was 8. I live on Maryland St. by the sewer gates and feast on whatever things drift along. I joined a big group of pick-pockets and we make actually a decent amount of money every now and then. One day i was with my friend Zachary and we were scavenging for food when I saw a middle aged women drop her purse and not notice that she even dropped it. I ran over and grabbed it debating if i should take it or give it back to her, I started running toward her when i got close enough I reached out and grabbed her shoulder. She whipped back and grabbed my hand then I said “Sorry mam for startling you, but you dropped this”. Holding it out
"Stephen, this is ridiculous, we are about to go pick up your new sister, someone, whether you like it or not, you are going to love and care for one day. No matter how you feel right now, you better not treat her like this!" And with that Mom was silent for the rest of the drive. She must've been very upset at me to not even turn around and apologize for her yelling. That moment I realized just how selfish I was being to them. I knew how hard this was on them and how much they wanted this baby. And here I am throwing all of their hopes and dreams in the
My mom had been going to school in Greeley and staying at my Aunt Margaret's house . She had been away for two weeks and wanted to come home for the Fourth of July weekend. My mom had suggested that I go back with her and visit colleges, shop, go to movies and just spend time together. I had been feeling pretty sorry for myself since she had been gone. I had been working alot as a maid and helping my dad run the house, I was getting very irritated with my siblings as I felt that I was the only family member doing my part to help my dad. I was really excited to have a week with my mom to myself. The whole ride over we were talking about what I wanted to do that week. Making plans and having "me time" seemed very important at the time.
It was the last Saturday in December of 1997. My brother, sister, and I were chasing after each other throughout the house. As we were running, our parents told us to come and sit down in the living room. They had to tell us something. So, we all went down stairs wondering what was going on. Once we all got down stairs, the three of us got onto the couch. Then, my mom said, “ Well…”
One time my mom sent me and my little sister Kimora in Walmart to get get bread, milk and chips. Kimora was I still is currently is 1. We went into the store filled with customers, I put Kimora inside the shopping cart so I would’nt have to worry about falling her around or running away. As we went into the milk section I was a man with a bright yellow shirt on he was about 6 feet very tall.
My mom was still home, so I decided to try dragging my book bag back to the house. My book bag was much too heavy to pull so I push it with my head. I was trying to get inside the house, but my mom saw me. Well, the kitten version of me, and instead of letting me in the house, she hit me with a broom. My mom took my bag and went inside, shutting me outside.
It was Tuesday and the day was draining away. I wanted to go buy new hair dye, but I knew it was too late. Careless, I got money from my piggy bank and asked my little sister Natalie to come along. I usually go out by myself but I decided to take her to feel more safe. Since my parents were not home yet I had to make this trip quick, so we took the bus.
I was forced to grow up and be the responsible older sister, in charge of finding my sister when school got out to walk home. Learning to pack for a weekend away was something I had to do because my mother had to help my sisters. I couldn’t talk to my mom about the fact that she had to hide her new smoking addiction from us. I may have been young, but I could pick up on the smell of a cigarette lingering in our garage. My sisters didn’t need to know, so I pretended I didn’t know. When I turned 14 and got my license, I was charged with transporting my sisters to and from our parents’ and friends’ houses. I had to be the source of communication between my parents. I still am after 12
She was two and a-half years older than me so I did what she said. I sluggishly go get some stuffed animals from the play room stubbing my toe on the corner of the wall,
The event of losing something is not a unique experience. Whether the loss was temporary and painless, or permanent and punishing, everyone has lost something. Knowing this, it is unsurprising that grief and loss have been broken down into stages that can be clearly seen in most cases: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. The fact that my own life is riddled with several varying falls into the pits of despair is also to be expected. Right now, in my sixteen years of life, I cannot count the amount of things I have lost. However, there is one loss I recall quite clearly, the loss of my first best friend.
My mother stopped by Subway so I could grab a sandwhcih for lunch. A few minutes later I arrived to school. All my friends were waiting where we always wait for either other. Before we could go to the carnival we had
My father's eyes opened, and he called out for my sister Kelly and I to come to him. In a very serious and sad voice, he told us that he was very sick, and he was going to the Fort Wayne hospital. My mother told Kelly and I to help her pack some things for him, because he was going to be leaving soon. We helped her pack, keeping quiet because we did not want to interrupt the silence that had taken over the room.
About nine years ago, when I was around three, my mom decided it would be a good idea to go to her favorite store at the time, Sam’s Club, in oppose to being lazy and staying home. I didn’t want to go, but I was three, so I would barely care in a few minutes anyway. It was like there was a mad scientist making me enjoy things I didn’t want to enjoy. When we got in the car, I remember my little brother crying the entire way there and me yelling at him,