An Unforgettable Experience Of My Short Story

I was excited to talk to Ajaz, my best friend from the age of four to thirteen again. We’d had an inconsistent friendship (though we’d never fallen out) over those nine years: from spending every class and break together for our first couple of school year together, to barely speaking to each other later in primary school. Prior my family and I moving to Canada, however, we were as close as we had been aged four. Ajaz was already sat at our pre-arranged meeting point – a small park that neighboured our primary school – when I arrived our pre-arranged meeting point. We walked through the neighbourhood, passing the house in which I grew up. The conversation was predictably awkward, nevertheless, I expected the conversation to loosen up after

David and I have been best friends for as long as we can remember. Part of what brought us together was how similar our stories began. We were both born in Portugal but came to Canada before the age of one where we grew up in neighbouring basement apartments. We would spend most of the day together: our parents would drop us off at the same babysitter before going to work, we were in the same class during the day, and we would play late into the evening while we waited for our parents to return. While we were very similar children, our situations were vastly different: while my parents came to Canada as landed immigrants, David’s parents came as visitors that never returned, or

How much impact can life and death make in someone's life? In my case, both

My First Memory- Personal Narrative I’ve had many memories during my lifetime, many good, and some bad. My

I finally reached a point where I felt I needed to rest, or get an idea of where I had

It’s February 12th, a cold, snowy day. I run into my mom’s room because I heard her scream. When I get there I see her on her back in pain. I’m dumfounded, I just there paralyzed, until I hear her say

“They judge me like a picture book, by the colors like they forgot to read”-Lana del rey. Proving that people tend to judge without allowing themselves to give me a chance. They always go with what their eyes tell, but they should know that I'm more than what I appear to be.

"Since we are already passing through, let's go to Owen and Laura Beth's," my dad stated.

“Mom, my stomach hurts,” I whined to my Mother for about the tenth time. “MOOOOOOOOOM!” I yelled in a whisper sort of way. I was sitting with my Mom, Dad, and brother watching a play in a vast theatre with only about a fourth of the seats taken. We were on a Disney cruise, and I was still in awe that I couldn’t feel the boat rocking. My Mom finally decided to have us exit the theatre and leave the dazzling princesses with brightly colored dresses and fake crowns behind.

“Hey mom how are you doing today?” I said as I climbed into the four door G.M.C. Fine my mom replied. Wow another bland answer I thought to myself I wonder what high school I got into should I ask her or should I wait I thought to myself. “Hey mom any news?” No, she replied. Wow still I got another plain answer. Man, I still want to ask her about the school because I really wanted to know what’s the deal about me getting into high school or not. I’ve been waiting for a good moment for me to ask here the question as we pulled out the schools traffic

Everywhere we went my mom would say hello to somebody she knew. My sister and I would hide behind my mom, grabbing her by her jeans or each other in nervousness and we did not want my mom’s friend to see us. We would only come out when my mom would tell us to come forward and greet. My sister and I would look at each other before we said hi. The only times when we weren’t shy were when we would see our cousins. We would run up to them and try to play. My two or three year old body would try hard to keep its balance as I ran through the tan, dark, colored dirt road. I would often trip then fall on my face and cry. My mom would always scream at us” Que les dije woe no corran!”, “Didn’t I tell you not to run?” but we never listened. We were happy to run free getting our shoes dirty in the process and it gave me much joy to see people we knew everyday. Aunts and uncles would come over to our house and the smells of the frijoles, rice, nopales and sometimes meat cooking on the stove would fill the house. Lunch and Dinner were both eaten as a family, and tortillas were something you could not live without. With all the people and kids in the house you could see the dark muddy footprints all over the white tiles of the living room, and you could follow the footsteps into the kitchen.

“Let’s just start with the day you lost your sister,” the policeman encouraged the boy on. “The day I lost her, or the day I doomed her?” The boy couldn’t bare to lift his head more than an inch out of his hands. The tears have stung his cheeks since the day he lost her. “Time she was captured, boy, just describe the time she was taken,” he insisted, pushing a glass of water to me. Taking time to gather all the thoughts spilling and doing backflips in my mind, I start my story.

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.

I woke with a start, excitement and anxiety bubbling inside of me. I kept trying to suppress my smile, but it kept etching its way onto my face. Last night, Christina, my sister, who is in college, came home, and today we were going to go on our annual snorkeling trip. I wanted to practice my swimming today, because I wanted to try out for the swim team. Christina was already on the college swim team, so I was hoping she could help me.