Memories In My Life

When the word “vacation” is mentioned, everyone instantly thinks of a great time. There are no classes, no work, no chores, and most importantly, no worries. However, this isn’t always the case, especially with my family. We decided to set out on an adventure to Virginia Beach this past April. The events that took place were benign but, the trip itself was a little bit of a struggle due to the chain of unpredictable events.

Vacation is a period of recreation, one spent away from home. My family and I take our vacations in the summer when school ends because I do not like missing work that I will have to make up in school. I adore ending school in June and then contemplating where I am going to spend my summer vacation. Every year, my parents take my siblings and I to Disney World in Florida, but this year we decided to travel somewhere divergent. We all decided to stay in Florida and go to a captivating area called Port Saint Lucie. We stayed at a location called Club Med, which includes a resort and many activities for people of all ages to do like volleyball, tennis; you name it. Club Med was a magnificent experience for my family since we all appreciate outdoor

My favorite vacation, so far, is one I went on in September 2015 with my friends Alissa and Jaidah. We all share fandom interests. On the weekend of September 19, my brother went away to spend his birthday with my dad. My mom shook me awake and informed me I could bring two friends along to a room in the Dells that we would be occupying. Almost immediately I thought of the duo. I ran downstairs and texted both of them while packing a bag. They texted back not too long after, and I told them my mom and I would pick them up anywhere from 10-11 that Saturday morning. We picked up Alissa and she tried to direct us to Jaidah’s house, but she wasn’t thorough with her

I spent a year in the foster care system. My foster home was an old creaky house. The room I slept in was at the top of the stairs, third door on the left. I was the only one in my room, it was the only thing I had that was just mine. It was quiet, great for thinking. Early in the morning the sun would streak across the dark hardwood floor and reflect off the white walls, showing all the dust particles in the air. It may have smelt, as many old houses do, of must and mildew, but that morning I did not care. I was about to taste freedom. It was the morning I would leave to live with my mother full-time. Before I left, I sat on my hard mattress with its scratchy tan sheets one last time and reflected on all the events that had led up to this point.

It is hard to recall which one of my memories is actually the first because there are so many. However, as I tried to decide between various different memories there was one that stuck out to me. The memory itself is a little bit foggy, but I can remember that I was extremely young. It must have been a weekend because both of my parents were home, and I can remember the sun shining through the windows in my house. I was in my room playing and dancing around, watching myself in the mirror. I heard my mom scream out for help and I dashed down the hallway, through the living room and kitchen where I found my mom on the stairs. She was about halfway down the stairs and had something resting on her lap. I remember being frightened as I rushed down the stairs to see what had happened. Her screams were loud and dramatic and I wondered why my sister and father were not there. I realized that the item on her lap was a laundry basket full of towels, she had fallen on her way to the laundry room. I tried to help my mom, but as little as I was there was not much to do. My mom explained for me to go get my dad or sister because she was hurting. I then also began yelling, looking for my family. I found my dad downstairs on the couch snoring, he had slept through the incident. When I woke him and explained that mom needed him, he was not as concerned as I expected. He got up slowly, saying “I’m coming, I’m coming” as I ran back to sit with my mom. I held her hand, worried, until both my

There is one childhood memory that I can easily remember, even though it was ten years ago, I can remember it as if it were yesterday. Reminiscing back to the sad day racing my brother home from the bus stop where I had the accident of my life. Him being nearly a year older he beat me home but shut the door in my face as soon as I reach home where I was running full speed right into the door head first. That day change my life in all the wrong ways because I chip one of my tooth and lost a one as well. I was mad at my brother for weeks even though I know he didn't mean to hurt me or wanted to damage my teeth because I understand that accident do happen. I forgave him for that incident but indue time I realize the way my teeth was growing which wasn’t normal.

When I was going into fifth grade my parents decided to send my sister and I to Blueberry Cove Camp in Tenants Harbor. It was a week long sleep away camp, 2 hours from home, I was pretty nervous the only person I had stayed with for that long was my grandparents and these were people I didn't know. Now this was 6 years ago, I don’t remember very much, but I remember the girl I slept across from and where I slept in my cabin. In fact I lived and worked with her again this year, she lives in California, her boyfriend was there that first year too and he lives in Arizona. The fact that somehow the 3 of us all came back together 6 years after and many miles apart is what makes blueberry cove special.

I don't remember much from my childhood. Little things. Bits. Pieces. Never the full thing. Simply flashes in the endless pool that we humans call time. The few memories that I do fully remember are nowhere near happy. I do have happy memoirs they are there somewhere, in the back, behind a door, locked in a box never to be seen aging. I didn't put them there by choice, it's like my mind is set to keep me on my toes. To constantly remind me that the world is cruel and that the only person looking out for you is you. It’s wrong because I’m wrong.

The oldest memory I have is of the blurry figure of my mother as she cradles me close to her chest and sings me a lullaby that is off key. This off-key lullaby is my oldest and most fond memory. A memory that fills me with warmth when I think of it. Those moments have since ceased as I have grown up. My mother no longer holds me to her chest and sings me to sleep. Most of the time she is not home, but far away and tapping at her keyboard as she works endlessly to provide for us. This has been a fact since I was three years old. When she first started traveling to different cities, states, and countries for work, I was wracked with intense feelings of loss for my mother who, even though I knew would be back within a week, was taken from me by an outside force. I would stand by a window in my silent house and watch as her car left our similarly quiet neighborhood. These feelings of loss have become dull with the years of exposure. My mother used to ask me every so often, “Grace, do you feel I’m leaving you too much?”

One of my utmost embarrassing childhood memories would have to be the time when I was in kindergarten and Mrs. Cancelor (our teacher) was allowing everyone to take a restroom break. I went to the restroom did my business, talked as usual. We were all headed back to class, I plopped down at my desk and continued to do our school work as we were told to do. I just let one loose in class; it was silent, although it was not what I thought it was. I stood up and prayed nothing was displaying on the backside of my butt. I wandered up to Mrs. Cancelor and said, “Teacher, I think I pooped on myself?” “Honey it’s alright, just go to the restroom and clean up, she said calmly.” She called my mommy and told her what happened. Ten minutes later… my mommy shows up with clothes for me to change into. She asked, “Baby what happened?” I said, “mommy I thought I just had to fart but it wasn’t a fart.” My mother tried extremely hard not to laugh at the moment of my distress. She then gave me an enormous amount of love and told me to have a good day at class.

My memories are important to me, some of them more than others. It was difficult to think of which memories are important to me because not many major things have happened in my life. Another reason it was difficult to pick which memories are important is that some things I consider unimportant are important to others. I chose these memories because of the impact they had on my life.

An individual’s childhood memory has impacted them in some way whether it be emotionally or physically. From one memory to another, good or bad, develops the entity of a person’s personality or logic. I considered one of my worst memories a favorite memory because, from that experience, I gained development as an individual. The start of that development occurred on vacation without my parents attending. Like any other child, I became very enthusiastic of the whole idea of freedom and self-guidance. After the majority of the trip, I became uninterested with self-guidance and I wanted to rely on the adults to plan fun-filled activities. I was very disappointed with the fact that their lack of authority and action lead to an uneventful vacation. I began to miss my parents’ guidance because with every request or action they took it was in all the best interest of me. Whether it was to hold my hand across the road or watch the things I eat, all of it was intended for my growth and safety. It was then that I realized how much my parents really cared for me and it made me grow to respect their wishes even more. Concisely what began as a getaway from my parents resulted in a realization of how much I should appreciate and respect them.

Throughout this paper I will be writing about my life, starting from my very first memory and ending with my life as it is now. Since I was brought into this world I had an older sister who is two and a half years older than I am. My parents said right away that my sister was so excited to have me in her life that she did not care that she was no longer the center of my parent’s attention. She acted as if I was her baby. When I was just starting out, as a toddler was the time that I started to develop my first memories, which are not all good. Lets start from the beginning, my first memory that I have of myself would be from when I was almost two years old. In this memory I was attending my papas funeral. I remember that there was the colour red everywhere, all over the walls and even on the seats. It was his favourite colour according to what my parents tell me. From this memory I also remember my parents walking me up to him during his wake and allowing my older sister and I to put a photo of us into his shirt pocket so we would always be with him. After this memory, my next one occurs when I am around the age of two as well. I remember being in my families first home sitting in our kitchen with my mom, on her lap wrapped in my little mermaid blanket, drinking a little bit of tea with her while we watched my older sister catch the bus to go to school. This is still one of my favourite memories because I truly fell that this helped shaped the person I am today. I also

This section of my life essay is split between what I have faint memories of and what my mother remembers so clearly. I have united the two into one smooth narrative, but it is still a united effort. However, in my mind, I can see perfectly clear the moment we found out that a third airplane had crashed into The Pentagon, where my father was. The sound that came from my mother was not human. She fell from the chair, dirt-caked knees digging deep into the floor, pink shirt already stained with tears. Her blonde, curly hair had clumps of mud in it, and her eyes were so red. Her mouth was open so wide, I feel like I could have looked down and seen her heart. She screamed and screamed, and in his crib my brother started to scream in unison, as

Our life is full of joy and interesting like a garden filled with a variety of flowers that gave colorful, contentment and comfort. Sometimes we felt like a donut that there is a hole in the middle, tasteless, no filling that gave as challenge in our lives.