I didn't realize I had fallen asleep until I felt an insistent prodding against my side. Grumbling softly under my breath, I tried to wiggle my way beneath my covers only to have them savagely tugged away. Reluctantly, I sat up before glancing in my mother's direction. Everything felt sluggish as my mind tried to grasp the reason behind her appearance in my room. It was then that everything came back to me. The teasing, the fighting, the running away. Paling at the thought, I began to nervously tug at the corner of my pajama shirt while my gaze lingered on the corner of the bed. Of course the school would have conferenced with my mother regarding the incident. I found myself unable to face my mother since I feared seeing her beautiful face twisted with an expression of disappointment. . "Honey, I want you to look at me." she said, her voice lilting like a beautiful melody to my ears. I cringed mentally as I allowed my gaze to raise and I found myself looking at my gorgeous mother. Hot jealousy surged within me and clawed at my throat as long loose curls deftly bounced around my mother's face before settling in a gentle cascade down her back. With a pale complexion and a cherub face, my mother's appearance could have made even the angels jealous. Her light blue eyes completed the image along with her perfectly slim body. Everything that my mother was I wasn't. I often found myself wondering if every undesirable gene in my parents' bodies had been used to create me. After all, their perfection had to come at a price and that was me. It was hard to push those ugly dark feelings away, especially since my parents where so kind and understanding. Consumed with these malicious thoughts, I found myself jumping away from my mother's ... ... middle of paper ... ... hands. I noticed the intricate tree design on the cover indicating that this little book was my mother's personal journal. It was her most treasured possession and now it was mine. "Thank you." I said, feeling my own eyes becoming damp before I hugged her once again. "I hate to interrupt, but we have to get going now." Jeff called out from the plane. My mother delicately brushed the hair from my face once again before pushing me gently towards the plane. I looked at her one more time while carefully placing the journal into my jacket pocket. It was the last time I would see her in a while and I wanted to savor her appearance. Despite my wishes to remain home where I belonged, I turned my back on my mother and climbed into the co-pilot seat in the plane. with a flick of various switches, we were suddenly in the air and I was heading towards my destiny.
First, Connie and her mother focused on outward beauty rather than inward beauty, which can never be tarnished. Connie’s mother was jealous of her daughter’s beauty, because she knew she could no longer attain the beauty that she once possessed. She often scolded her daughter for admiring her own beauty in order to make herself feel more secure inside. Connie did not try in the least bit to make her mother’s struggle any easier, but instead gawked at her own beauty directly in front of her mother, and often compared her own beauty to others.
It is easily inferred that the narrator sees her mother as extremely beautiful. She even sits and thinks about it in class. She describes her mother s head as if it should be on a sixpence, (Kincaid 807). She stares at her mother s long neck and hair and glorifies virtually every feature. The narrator even makes reference to the fact that many women had loved her father, but he chose her regal mother. This heightens her mother s stature in the narrator s eyes. Through her thorough description of her mother s beauty, the narrator conveys her obsession with every detail of her mother. Although the narrator s adoration for her mother s physical appearance is vast, the longing to be like her and be with her is even greater.
Mary Lambert had happy family. She wasn’t always the crazy person who kills her husband just because he decided to leave her for other women. She was normal and innocent but it all changed one night. Mary was only five years old and her sister was only Nine. She had bright, beautiful , blonde curls that fell on the back like curly fry and gorgeous blue eyes that looked like they were sculpted from sapphire. Mary’s sister was also extremely beautiful with her long straight brown hair and her dark almond eyes. But Mary’s mother was not so pretty. She didn’t even looked like her daughters. How could such pretty children come from an unattractive mother? Well, obviously the girls got their beauty from their father. He was quite handsome with his
"Mom, I'm so glad that you're awake." Becca cried, she maneuvered around her mother's I.V's wrapping her arms around her. Becca pulled back from her mother, she pulled out the chair under the desk and took a seat then placed her hands over her mom's.
she was pretty and that was everything” (225). This captivation with herself along with the constant looking in the mirrors and thinking her mother was only pestering her all the time because her mother’s own good looks were long gone by now (225) shows a sign of immaturity because she believes everything revolves around whether or not someo...
She remembered attending her first day of school when she was a young child. Everything was so unfamiliar to her; new faces, new voices, a whole new world she could then discover on her own, without her mother holding her hand. Unfortunately the fun she expected to have did not go as she could have hoped. It was a seldom occurrence for anyone to ask her to play with them. She spent most of the school day in seclusion quietly playing in the corner with an array of plastic blocks. At certain points she just wanted to cry or go back home to the warm, loving arms of her mother; that is where she felt safe and shielded from the evil of the world. Somehow, no matter how bad her day had gone, her mother could always make it all go away with a soft kiss to the cheek and a gentle pat on the bum. She would always pack a nutritious lunch for her to take to school. There was something about the way a mother makes a sandwich that makes it taste so much better than when you try to make it yourself, maybe it’s because it’s made w...
In a much better mood then she had been in when they left their parents house, Valerie sat quietly in the passenger’s seat and enjoyed the rest of the drive to her girlfriend’s house. When they arrived at their destination Valerie undid her seat belt and gave her brother a kiss on the cheek, “thanks for driving,” she explained as she got out of the car and started toward the front door of Trinity’s house.
Shannon heard her stepfather coming up the stairs and quickly raced for the closet where she had already prepared her hiding place. Huddled under a pile of clothing, she listened as he came closer. He stopped as he entered the room and she knew he would be surprised to find her bed empty. He must be trying to figure out where to look next. Her heart pounded so hard she thought he must surely be able to hear it and she scarcely breathed as he stopped outside the closet door. Opening it slowly he looked inside but seemed unable to see her as he closed it and walked into another room. He called her name but she lay motionless until she heard him on the stairs. After a few more drinks he would pass out in front of the TV but afraid he might come back, she waited until she heard her mother come home from work. She slowly and quietly opened the closet door and tiptoed back to bed. Sleep did not come.
Today’s generation needs to be able to fend for itself when its members join the workforce and start families of their own. A child’s success is the dream of many parents, but kids need to posses that dream for themselves, whether they are born with it or not. Medical histories are just another example of the Nature vs. Nurture debate that can relate to almost everyone. There are some diseases, like diabetes, Huntington’s disease, and heart failure, that are common in families due to genetics. There are also those that are entirely separate from genetics, but are contracted, like Cholera. Many things can make a person who he or she is, but where it comes from is the trick. A personality can be made either through the genetics passed down from parents, or the experiences that one faces throughout his or her entire
I knew that she wanted to hug me and make it better, but I needed to be alone. I walked up the stairs to my room and curled up in a ball on my bed. Why hadn't I been accepted. That was all that I could think about for the next hour. Why. I looked at the clock and noticed it was now 6:00 p.m. Dad would be getting home in a few minutes. Just as I thought that, I heard the front door open and heard Dad talking to Mom. All I could hear was their muffled voices, but I knew what they were saying; they were most certainly talking about my not getting accepted to the college. A couple of minutes later I heard Dad coming up the stairs, probably to my room. I sat up and wiped the tears from my eyes, hoping he could not tell I had been
As I walked out of the courthouse and down the ramp, I looked at my mom in disappointment and embarrassment. Never wanting to return to that dreadful place, I slowly drug my feet back to the car. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and I didn't want anyone else to know what I had done. Gaining my composure, I finally got into the car. I didn't even want to hear what my mom had to say. My face was beat red and I was trying to hide my face in the palms of my hands because I knew what was about to come; she was going to start asking me questions, all of the questions I had been asking myself. Sure enough, after a short period of being in the car, the questions began.
“Diana, why aren’t you sleeping yet? The trip isn’t for a few days. You still have time,” my mother’s tired voice echoed from the room beside me.
At around seven o’clock, I heard my mom page me to come downstairs. “I just got a very interesting call from your principal, darling.” At this point, I was in tears. “Mom, I swear I didn’t do anything! Please don’t yell at me! I found it. I didn’t steal it. I promise. Please believe me!” I sobbed and sobbed as I put my hands into my face. I knew that I was going to get the bad end of it. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to yell at you. I understand that you found it. You just have to give it back if it’s hers. She said that it was hers, so just give it up.” My mom sounded subtle, and I started to understand her. “What am I supposed to do?” Just the thought of having to give it back hurt me inside. I know that I didn’t have it for long and that it wasn’t mine, but I found it. “The principal will call you down tomorrow and you can give it to her. Now go upstairs and get some rest.” I turned and walked upstairs to go to bed. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. But when I finally did, I fell
My mother always wanted a perfect child, and that’s exactly what I am not. This is a story about my failure, my failure at life. I wasn’t blessed with the amazing athletic gene that my father passed down to both of my brothers. However, I was blessed with intelligence, artistic abilities, and an amazing memory. None of that matters if I lack the incentive and determination to make something out of myself.
My mom is a unique woman. She is quite short, yet she’s full of energy. She has black hair cropped down to her shoulders and has golden streaks running through them. She has big dark brown eyes which open, to discover the wonders of the world. “Time changes people,” she always says. No matter what people say to her, she doesn’t let it aff...