A Short Story : The Story Of My Mother

On November 17,1989 my mother Juanita Renea Ohlinger went into labor at 6:00 A.M. she was in labor for 12hrs. She laid there in so much pain at Providence hospital until Dr. Kendal Foster showed up and told her she had to have a C-section because her pelvis would not expand. The nurse hooked my mother up to monitors and willed her to the operating room, my father Raymond F Smith was dressed in hospital operating clothes. Dr. Foster began to open my mother’s womb and pulled me out at 5:25 pm.

"Anita began raising Darnell 15 years ago, when his mother began deteriorating in different ways. They've been through it all; she laughed when she talked about how much trouble he got into early on, and she shook her head proudly when she said he was now "the man of the house," helping with all the other children who have landed in her home over the years after their parents gave up. "She's my second mom," Darnell said. "I don't let that 'mother' word out easily, I really don't. But she deserves it." He told me his story matter of factly, telling me he struggled at times when thinking about his mom, in particular, but "I had to learn how to accept that she was doing the right thing for me when she decided she couldn't raise me."

I created this memory book for us to share and look at our memories throughout our life together.Not only have we shared a lot of memories together,we have had many laughs and shared many tears.You have done a lot for me including flying half way across the world to get me. I thought the least I could do is write about the three most memorable moments I remember. I will always have other memories too. Dancing in the family room to garth brooks wrapped up in you. Watching movies together or our favorite tv shows. Getting in those little fights over something stupid. Not only have you taught me things like how to walk,talk,dance,sing but you have taught me how to get back up being knocked down again and again. Thank you.

She would try to get lost. It was the eighties and we had no cell phones or GPS. But, we had a car, and she said we were free with a car. She drove down all the little roads, but we were never really lost because we were never really scared and all roads lead somewhere.

“HOME RUN, Michael Molaski! That’s his 13th home run this year!” Yells the announcer, “He’s now the record holder most home runs in a single season!” The other announcer adds on. Michael pounds his chest and sneers at his opponents as he rounds the bases. His smile full of hatred and power. The pupils in his eyes black, bland, but bold, just like his fathers. But deeper in his eyes were a red stew of anger. Michaels fist flies into the air,as his teammates surround him in the pride Michael lives for. His bracelet jangling as he walks “So now can I go to the party?” Michael asks happily, “No. I think you know why.” Yells Bobby. Michaels face turns red as he felt rejected for the last time, “Get out of my way, idiot!” Michael yells.

I can still remember vividly the day my mother passed away. My mother passed away at a critical point in my life when I was seventeen years old from a short term illness. She was sick for a week and I remember thinking this could be serious, however, my mother declined to go to the hospital because of the distance and financial hardship. I had loss my father when I was three years old, so my mother was a single mother. I have step sisters and brother, but I was not particularly close to them. Losing my mother was a defining moment in my life for it changed my life irrevocably. I was devastated, but I had to become strong, proactive and it spurred me to choose a new career path.

In 1859 Henry Ward Beecher said, "the mother’s heart is the child’s schoolroom." I believe that statement because of experiences I’ve had with my own mother. I have learned more about life from her than from my 15 years of schooling. Over the last 20 years my mother has taught me many valuable lessons just by being a living example of compassion, thoughtfulness, and generosity. She is an angel that has protected and carried me throughout life.

I have lived 14 years, and I encountered many people who majorly impacted my life. Many of which taught me some of the most important values I have today. In the short story “Thank You Ma’am”, the protagonist, a young boy, attempts to snatch an old woman named Mrs. Jones’s, purse. Consequently, he falls over and the woman picks him up and screams at him in a disciplinary sense. The woman then takes the boy to her home to get him cleaned off and to feed him. She talks to him and understands why attempted to snatch her purse, and gives him money the money he wanted for new shoes. By the end of the story, the boy promises the woman to behave himself. Mrs. Jones impacted the boy's life greatly, as she surprised him with an act of kindness after he tried stealing her purse. My greatest influence in my life is my mother as she strongly impacted me through my 14 years of existence by helping me strengthen my faith and morality, helping me to build great characteristic traits, and she sets a great example for me to become a good mother in the future.

I knocked on the door it was that soft kind of polished wood. I heard a faint whisper saying “Come in.” I walked in and said “Hi momma how are you doing?”

Hi...it’s me, Kael Kael Eatman. I'm about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. The tale of events that lead my whole city to get infected with this… I don’t even know what you would call this. A disease possibly. It was horrible, let’s start with the first encounter.

My life is finally starting to fall into place, like a missing puzzle piece. It’s been nine long and stressful years, since I had last seen my brother . My dad always told me “ Let time play itself out and hope for the best”. I never thought my dad’s words would come true, until now. This is how it all began,

Born in the cold winter night of December was a little daddy’s princess, Sarika. Yes, it’s me. I am Sarika. That’s the name I was given by my father. The meaning of name Sarika is a bird, a beautiful thing or a princess. Like every father, he chose this name for me because he already knew someday I’ll become independent and soar higher like a bird. From the moment he first held me in his arms and stared into my eyes, he knew that I was very special and had lots of hopes and dreams for the future. On the other hand, my mom was very disappointed that she gave birth to a girl again. She wanted a boy. She had already given birth to four girls. She hoped that fifth one would be a boy. But unfortunately, it was a girl again. In dismay, she even forgot to breastfed me. She wanted to adopt a boy but my father did not agree. My father explained to her that I was the gift of the God and no matter what gender I was, I am his child.

What is a mother? To me, a mother is someone who exhibits strength and compassion, someone who loves you unconditionally through thick and thin, and someone who is there to pick you up when you fall. My mom is all of that and more, however, she has a more difficult time than most. When my mom was in her mid-thirties she was diagnosed with early onset Parkinson’s Disease. “Parkinson's disease (PD) is a neurodegenerative disorder that affects predominantly dopamine-producing (“dopaminergic”) neurons in a specific area of the brain called substantia nigra” (What Is Parkinson’s?). Most people when they think of Parkinson’s disease they only think of the tremors that it causes, but there is so much more to it than that. Some of the symptoms of PD are: slowness of movement, rigidity or stiffness, tremors, trouble with balance, depression, cognitive changes, pain, sleep disorders, and so much more (What Is Parkinson’s?). Parkinson’s disease doesn’t just affect the person itself, but it also affects the people around them. Everyday I helplessly watch as my mom goes about her day in pain, I worry about the tomorrows to come, and I struggle to make sense of it all.

Any women can be a mother but it takes someone special to be a mother. Having someone in your life who means so much to you is a blessing. My Mom, Fatima was born on June 4, 1973. Moving to her appearance, I could say that the way she acts says a lot about her personality. She is the kind of person that is interesting to listen. Every time I listen to her, I learn something new. The moment she had me in her life was also a blessing for her. Im her third daughter. She is someone who cheers me up while I’m feeling sad. Without her, I wouldn’t be who I am today. Her smile is the only thing that will make me happy throughout the day. Her guiding hand on my shoulder will remain forever. Ever since her childhood, my mom was taught that

A mother is someone who can take the place of all others but no one can take the place of her. There are many different definitions you could use to describe your mother. My mother, Pam Krull, fits every one of those. Today I decided to pick the three that I thought was most important to me. I admire and aspire to be like my mother because of how supportive, how selfless, and how loving she is.