Descriptive Essay About Grandparents To Louisiana

Coming of Age in Mississippi is an eye-opening testimony to the racism that exemplified what it was like to be an African American living in the south before and after the civil rights movements in the 50's and 60's. African Americans had been given voting and citizen rights, but did not and to a certain degree, still can not enjoy these rights. The southern economy that Anne Moody was born into in the 40's was one that was governed and ruled by a bunch of whites, many of which who very prejudice. This caused for a very hard up bringing for a young African American girl. Coming of Age in Mississippi broadened horizon of what it was like for African Americans to live during the 40's, 50', and 60's.

After departing from the French Quarter, we headed north to Biloxi, Mississippi, east through Mobile, Alabama and out onto Florida’s long, desolate and boring country highway into the panhandle and past Pensacola. On the drive home, I started feeling a lot of nervous anxiety. I was suddenly

Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock! The sand in my hour glass was shifting as gravity pulled each particle. Then I realized, all of these particles of sand will soon fall to the bottom, I could either let my precious last moments in Florida perish like the sand or celebrate them as if they are the last days. So, I began to call my friends, and make a list of places and things I wanted to do. Before I move I wanted to visit my old house where I lived until I was six years old, I wanted to relive my precious moments, with hope for approval, I visited my parents’ room. I asked my mother with deep hesitation, thinking her answer determines the fate of my last days in Florida. “Hey mom, can we go to Palm Beach one last time before we move? Can we..? I had so much to say, but very little time. Then gracefully she replied, “Yes, we’ll try to visit as many places as possible, but we only have one week.” So the first thing next morning we begin our three-hour drive, upon our arrival at the town of Royal Palm Beach. I began to recall my childhood, my first day of school bright and fresh in my head like the sun. The rays of that memory also touch other pleasant memories such as learning how to read, ride my bike, and getting my first dog. My dad moved to the United States when he was thirteen, he once told me that “When you do something new, you can’t look back, otherwise you’ll never discover anything new or experience something new and life is all about experiences”,

As I walked quickly to the arrivals, my suitcase making skid marks on the terminal floor, I couldn't fathom the thought of waiting another second for this adventure. For what felt like hours of waiting, my aunt had finally picked me up. It was a three and a half hour drive to Mark Twain National Forest and I watched through the window as the sky changed into a colorful painting of pinks and blues. The fresh air of the Midwest ran through my veins and I felt like I was home again.

I stretched out after spending what seemed like an eternity in such a small place. We had made it to a reservation in the middle of nowhere, South Dakota. The next week would be spent fixing doors for a house filled with endless sick, stray animals, replacing broken windows, and repairing the foundation of a hoarder's house upon

I stood there in amazement watching the ceaseless waves lap at the shore. The water shocked me with its beauty, the deep blue hues and white crests were a picture of paradise. I dropped my towel, sat on it and gazed out onto the incredible expanse of water. Being at the ocean in person is a totally different experience than looking at a picture or video. I sat there as my sisters ran out into the waves, at that moment I formally realized where I was. The overwhelming size of the glorious ocean made me feel very small. Thinking about Aurora, Indiana and what I had around me made me want to never return home. The oceans size, and being so far away from home shattered my inner world and rebuilt it into a more accurate size. For the longest time I thought that I would graduate high school go to a local college and have a job in the town I grew up in. I realized I was living at home with no thought whatsoever as to where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do with my life. My trip to the Gulf of Mexico made me realize that life is full of unknown possibilities, and I had an entire world that I needed to experience. Just going to Alabama had shown me the diversity of a different place. I realized there were other types of people out there, not just “farm boys” wearing boots and spitting dip

As I sat in the back seat of the car with my forehead pressed against the cool window and my breath fogging up the glass, I watched the unfamiliar landscape crawl by. It felt like an immense betrayal and I understood exactly why I had avoided coming here for so many years; This was the reality I had been trying to avoid. That perfect little

Traveling at night, on the I-5, it’s simple to become lost in the lights. Red tail lights surround me, white lights on the left increasing their haste as they come closer, and all the majestic, glimmering city lights glimmer as I pass them. Instead of a chaotic highway, traffic asks as a peaceful brook; becoming swallowed by it doesn't seem abysmal. I recall a time in

It was time to make my first stop, which ended up being in El Paso, TX. Oh how I loved the quaintness and charm of its inhabitants so warm and welcoming. I slept like a baby, so tired from being on the road for hours. The next morning, I woke up refreshed and excited. I immediately hit the road and it seemed as if I just breezed by the next few states. The landscape on the highway began to resemble Florida more and more as the hours would pass. The next thing I knew it I had reached part 1 of my final destination, I saw the “Welcome to Florida”

It was several days before my sophomore year and my father, siblings and I were returning from a family reunion among a road trip. As usual, it would be a dull, uncomfortable ride, yet still weighed down by the absence of my older brother. Dialogue was rather thin and now unfamiliar to my mind; likely, the most said was from my younger brother. This would result in my direct instinct of politely saying “shut up.” Other than this small disturbance, the scene was placid. Trees passed by along the dam, then some bit of civilization was continuously revealed only to be again hidden by rural scenery of fields, trees, and wooded mountains.

Did I mention it had been raining? Not that this is unusual, but it was that sticky rain somewhere between mist and the heavy drops that cause radiating circles when they hit a puddle. I hate sticky rain. I could turn on the wipers and the windshield would be cleared, but in a matter of seconds, it is covered with splotches of water that would barely squeak off a windshield with a fresh coat of Rain-X. On this day the sky was gray spun sugar and the sticky rain washed away all colors from the surroundings with only yellowish spheres of lights forcing their brightness through. The dark roads, slick rocks, and stoic trees had a damp dullness surrounding them that made most people want to snuggle on the couch under a stadium blanket and watch a Hawks game. However, we chose to go out and explore in the rain and almost lost our way home.

When I had arrived though everything was new and mysterious. It felt like a different world. There were animals I had never seen before and things that would never have happened in California. I had to see everything.

The summer of 2015 changed my life. My family journeyed to New Orleans amid the horribly humid summer heat. My parents, my brother, and I had never been on a cruise before, but we had heard so many great things and were expecting just that. We arrived the night before the cruise and had previously decided to spend the night in New Orleans. We did not want to risk being late and missing our awaited trip.

The crackle of gravel under rubber, the quiet murmur of wind dancing through the leaves, and the bittersweet scent of pine. These are the sounds and smells I wake to as the car trundles down the drive to my grandparents’ home—and there are few I love better. I imagine Aldo Leopold felt much the same about his farm in his Sand County Almanacs. His, an abandoned farm in Wisconsin in the 1940s, mine an abandoned farm in Northern Michigan my maternal grandparents bought in the 1960s. It was this farm that intimately introduced me to nature beginning infancy. I believe it is due to this exposure to nature that I am keenly aware of the complex connections between humans and nature today.

One summer, six years ago, me and my family went to New York to visit my grandmother. We were off to see someone I barely knew in a city that 's foreign to me. At first I was exhilarated because of flying in an airplane and traveling over multiple states. But feelings were to change as soon as we landed.