Personal Narrative : My Father 's House Essay

Personal Narrative : My Father 's House Essay

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One fateful day, my parents decided to redecorate the house, so they painted the wall and reframed up all the old pictures. As a young girl, I assisted my parents and reframed the pictures. While, scrolling through the pictures, I noticed, one peculiar picture that I would never forget in years to come. This tremendous picture was taken on a Christmas holiday were our entire family members and friends celebrate the season at their hometown in Nigeria. The celebration took place at my grandfather’s house with lots of food, drinking, and dancing.
Before everyone departed back home, my dad decided to take a picture of my mother and siblings, while they were having a great time. So, as my dad brought out his camera to capture the moment, I got distracted by a young girl’s picture at my grandfather’s house. I assumed she was five years old, which was the same age as I was. My uncle explained a dreadful encounter that happened to the young girl and as I starred at a young girl’s picture, tears gushed down my cheeks with my hands pointed towards the direction of the picture. At that moment, was when, my dad decided to take the pictures. I took that particular picture as my parents were redecorating the house and I approached my dad in order to acquire more information about that young girl picture that was nailed to the wall in my grandfather’s house. My dad sat me down and informed me about the young girl in the picture that was in my grandfather’s house. He instructed me that the young girl was born in Italy and her name was Angela. She was my cousin that was missing at a very young age and she was born before I was. Although there was an enormous search for the child, she was not found. Soon, the police gave up hope the search for th...


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...hted at my appearance because they saw me when I was five and now I am all grown up. My family members and friends from different part of the continent such the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, Argentina and many others places attended the Christmas celebration. While, I was at my grandfathers house I heard someone screaming “Angela,” and rushed out of the house towards the direction where I heard the yelling. I was petrified as tears ran down my cheeks, now I knew why my parents were surprised because “Angela was alive.” Then, it hit me for the first time, in many years, the picture on the wall at my grandfathers and fathers’ house here she was alive, tall, beautiful, dark curly hair. Soon, the tears turned into joy and happiness as I hugged my cousin and we took pictures together, which are now framed on the wall at our grandfather’s house and my parent’s house.

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