Descriptive Essay About My Family

I grew up with both of my parents and three siblings, my family is extremely close, so close that everyone needs a break from one another from time to time. My family is far from perfect, I am not the oldest child but I always took on that role as being the oldest sibling. The one who watches my two younger siblings when both of my parents weren’t home. My older brother Aubrey was supposed to be the one who watched over us but he never did. He spent his days locked away in his room, or nat at the house at all. Taking on the role of almost a mother figure to my younger siblings was difficult. I had to learn to be selfless and not just think for myself at an early age. When my mom didn’t come home till after twelve to escape my dads drunkness or my dad was laying out drunk in the bedroom. I was the one who fed my little brother and sister. I was the one who cleaned up the room the three of us shared. I was the one who helped them with their homework, who did my little sister's hair. I didn’t realize how much mature I became because of this responsibility till I was in high school and was referred to as Mom by the basketball team. I’ve always thought that I was the same as any teen immature, reckless, and carefree. That wasn’t the case at all I had many responsibilities like babysitting my siblings,washing and folding our clothes, making sure they get their chores done. I did this because I knew my father drank because of our financial situation, not being able to pay the

Decemeber 25th, 2016: A day filled with overly excited children and stressed out parents who are preparing for the events to come that day. After eagerly ripping through tons of wrapping paper that early morning, my family and I started our journey to the little town of Sobieski. The town may be extremely small and only have a population of less than two hundred people, but it is one of the most significant cities in my life. We soon arrived at my second home, my grandparent’s house, in the next half an hour.

Throughout my high school years, I tend to be a very hard worker. When given an assignment or project, I do not like to procrastinate and wait till the night before it is due to work on it. I like to be organized with my schedule and plan to work on assignments a few days before they’re due so I can double and triple check the work and turn it in with little to no errors. Sometimes I can be forgetful because I am human so I am forced to work on some assignments the night before, but I make sure the assignments I am given are completed. I am also known to be very picky on my likes and don’t likes so it’s harder for me to make decisions by myself compared to when I am around my peers. Needless to say, my family and friends are considered to be a big part of my life since I tend to be around them the most.

My family on the outside is definitely the kind of family people automatically have an assumption about at first glance, and I know exactly what those assumptions are, my family looks like the typical middle-class family you see every day. We’re white, average heights, looks, jobs, everything about us looks average. What people didn’t know about my family growing up and still don’t know is that my family is not necessarily average. I first noticed that my family was different when I was seven years old. My parents would argue every single day and I don’t know exactly what happened when I turned seven, but at that point in my life was like a realization moment for me, I realized that I didn’t know anyone else who had parents that would argue every day and night nonstop over nothing and everything.

The air was crisp, the sun just starting to peek up over the tree line, a small amount of fog filling the air on what seemed to be a usual fall morning. Par usual I forced myself out of bed dragging my feet to the kitchen like a prisoner on death row, already dreading whatever it was that the day was going to hold. Just like any other teenager checking my phone, was a priority early in the morning, catching up on whatever it is that I may have missed while sleeping. But, something like wasn't right, a text message notification from my mother saying “come wake me up”, stealthy walking through the house careful to not disturb anyone i walked to her bedroom, to find her already awake, strange i thought to myself. I said good morning as she shifted around, getting a better view of me. “Madeline, you're not going to school today, your dad was in a motorcycle accident last night.” she said. With those words piercing through the air around us, I was ripped from my sleepy daze and wide awake. Standing in the middle of that dark bedroom with only the small beam of light coming through the cracked door, i felt the utter darkness consume me wholey. My heart had took a plunge in this newly dig hole inside of me taking my stomach with it. Gathering the courage to speak and finding my voice I whispered “Is he dead?” She replied back with “Not yet, but honey this is bad.” Growing up in a household with a mother as a nurse, I knew this was no exaggeration. I felt sick, like i had be riding

Did you know the name Keller is actually a german word for cellar or basement? Although the origin of the name is not usually common knowledge, the name Keller is a pretty big name in the Tongue River Valley where I have resided the past 4 years of my life. For generations, the Kellers have built houses, preached the gospel, raised children, and made lifelong friendships in this small town. Having this already established connection with the community and it’s residents is such a blessing, yet I’ve discovered that it can also have some faults. The past year, I have pushed myself to become more independent and socialize outside of the comfort zone that my family has established for me.

A mid-forty year old with the soul of a twenty-one-year-old, my aunt Kelly is a complex individual. Whenever she announces her visits, my cousins lock their doors and shut off their phones. Someone signals the rest of our family that Kelly is in the area. Living an hour away in Trenton, she checks in a few times a year. It’s not that my family hates her; she is the life of the party. However, Kelly is an outspoken woman with headstrong opinions and somewhat threatening mannerisms under the influence of alcohol. She is a handful to deal with.

When I was sixteen years old, I realized I was similar to my brother, Jason. I always thought that one of us, or maybe both of us, had been adopted. We look nothing like the rest of our family and nothing like each other. He is tall and I am short; he has dark skin and I have white skin; he has brown hair and brown eyes and I have blonde hair and blue eyes. From these differences, we are really quite similar. We both share a unique similar bond that helps trick people in thinking we are one in the same. On a typical Friday afternoon, my mom thought Jason said “hello” when he walked in the front door but in reality, it was me.

Growing up, I was always been recognized as the shy child. At family events, I would be too afraid to have a conversation with my own uncle, so instead I would hide by my parents and avoid communicating with anyone at all costs. My sister is the loud one, she has always been outgoing and I loved to utilize that as an excuse to not address or express my thoughts and opinions. My dad soon realized that I sincerely hated meeting new people, having conversations, and making friends. He would constantly try his best to force me to obtain more confidence with people by making me order my own food, encouraging me ask other people questions, and continuously try to push me out of my comfort zone. This continued up through middle school, I had only

I grew up in a very normal family with a mom, dad, one brother and three sisters. Since I’m the baby of the family, my mom stayed home until I started school. My mom worked in payroll and accounting, and my dad was a computer engineer. My brother is the oldest and did his best to tease all four younger sisters equally. He was very good at his “job”, but I knew he loved me because he opened doors for me and even braided my hair on occasion. My three older sisters watched out for me, especially my oldest sister; she became my second mom. My sisters fought a bit, but it wasn’t anything horrible or abnormal. We were a pretty happy family that did a lot of fun things together and were loved by our wonderful parents. At least that’s what I remembered, but there were times that I wondered if I was loved at all. Was I just the baby of five kids, five years younger than my closest sibling, and easily forgotten?

A home is a place where you have lived with your family for so long that it has, in a sense, become a part of you. It can be a structure, a neighborhood, a state or a country. In my case, when I think of home, I initially think of a building, my house. My home, however, is much more than just a house to me. It is also the place where I am always sure to find those I love most, my family. In a generation where there are so many broken homes, I am fortunate to live with and be raised by two parents, who still love each other. I have two older sisters, Sabreena and Trinity, and a dog, a poodle named Puffs. I live in a quaint, four bedroom house in a subdivision called Steeplechase in Avondale, Louisiana. My house is a place of safety and refuge. My neighborhood is full of friendly, familiar faces. I have been smiling, waiving and occasionally talking to these friends and acquaintances since we moved here when I was just two years old. Growing up in this environment has, I’m sure, contributed to certain character and personality traits, which have made me who I am today. I am ultimately a trusting individual, who is both friendly and hospitable.

No one can’t meet a family like mine’s. My family is well diversified. Every family member plays an important role in all my family’s lives. In my family, there are four people: my father, my mother, my little brother and me. My father is one who brings money home and is also responsible for organizing and planning family trips. My mother is the one who is in charge for making meals and makes sure everyone eats at the appropriate times. My little brother is the pet of the family. He actually doesn’t have any responsibilities, for he’s the pet. I am the rock of support in my family. I always go beyond my parents’ expectations. I also support my younger cousins and little brother, by being a role model that they can look up to. Another

The summer with Nana went by really fast. I thought it couldn’t go any faster until I met Emma. Nana took me over to her house, which was a few houses down. We both share many of the same interests and love to play together. On the day we meet we both knew right away that we would be great friends.

My family is very important to my identity and to me. Lauryn londyn , my baby sister is my favorite sibling. I can't really say why maybe its because shes a baby or because she's the cutest baby in the world. She really affects my life because i feel like if it wasn't for her i wouldn't really bond with my other siblings. She brings my family together. When she walks or even try and talk everyone in the house wants to see. I wouldn't go in my parents room or come out my room if lauryn's not around. When she was a just a couple weeks old i would always go get her and put her in my room. I would always watch her, we would watch tv together, listen to music together, and eat together. She brings the good out of me.

I have been fortunate enough to have grown up in a content and supportive family. My parents are still married, my grandparents, and even some great grandparents, survived to see me grow up, and I have a good relationship with my immediate and extended family. My family and my experiences with them have formed me into the person that I am today. Despite having an average, middle class, white picket fence life, my family is not as ordinary as they seem on the surface.