Moving To My Parents Narrative

In 1941 we were moved into a small apartment in a ghetto. The getto was run down and was surrounded by a barbed wire fence. I noticed that in the side of the fence there was a small hole that was big ebough for a girl like me to get through. I thought that, that could be my escape plan If anything went wrong. I had to tell my family about it that we could all escape together. We walked into and apartment and it turns out that we were in a room with 12 other

getting ready and i noticed that my basket full of food was empty. ‘Those darn animals must of

At the age of 10, I began to learn how to transfer my dad in and out of his bed on my own. I learned how to use certain supplies to help meet all of his needs. I needed to learn all of this is such a short time because my mom was starting up her own business, so she wasn't home often. My brother and I took turns getting my dad settled down for bed every night.  I’ve never minded the responsibility. I have always definitely been "daddy's girl". Although I was exposed to many experiences and dealt with difficult situations in caring for my father at such a young age, I can honestly say it has helped me become a more independent person and made me the woman I am today. You might be asking why I’m writing so much about my father, but he was the

That day it went by to fast my brother and I tried spending as much time as I could with my dad. That night I went to bed sad I didn’t know if i would wake up in time to say goodbye to him. That morning I woke up and ran to see if my dad was still here. I ran into the kitchen first where I saw him eating ready to leave. He said that they were going to pick him up in ten minutes. Next thing you know we here a knock on the door. I went to answer the door it was some men in uniforms they were there to pick my dad up. My dad said goodbye to us I started to cry when he was leaving and so did my brothers and mom.

Although jobs had been scarce, I had been lucky enough to acquire a job in a Steel mill in the industrial area of Tulsa. Many people were against working there due to the conditions in which we were forced to deal with. Rats littered the building, some open, upper floor areas had no railings, and the machines would occasionally get themselves stuck on something. I reluctantly was able to convince my boss to allow my father to work with me. The job had been very dangerous and hard, but I made just enough money to provide for my family. The difficult work and hazardous conditions, while not preferable, enabled us to stay

I have had two different names growing up. My parents came to America at the turn of the new millennium with big dreams and hopes. Coming from a devout Jainist society, their perspectives towards life were very different; they believed in hard work and most of all nonviolence. I, on the other hand grew up in a sweet, small southern town on the tip of Florida. Life was all about going to the sandy beaches, chilling with pals, and just having a “good ole time”.

People often hear or maybe seen on the news of houses being broken into. We do our best to protect ourselves and our families from the unenviable happening. We have locks, we purchase alarm systems and other forms of defense to keep strangers out and our possessions in. When I woke up on Tuesday, April 6th, 2011, I never imagined someone would come inside of my home and ramble through my things and take from me whatever they wanted. If I could have seen into the future, I would attempt to change the minds of the guys who broke into my apartment.

It had been along time since something new had entered my world. Amongst the ruins of our space elevator, I sat, head bowed, and payed my respects to a whole civilization lost. The rusted steel and crumbled mortar only amplified my grief. Rotating my mandibles I rose, and scuttled out into the hive proper, or what was left of it. There used to be noise, movement all accross our home, the workers furthering the goals of our Mother, the advisors contstatly planning our expansion into all of the fertile worlds of our system. Now, as I move through the entrance mound, there is only silence, and the sound of my chitin clicking harshly against the floor, echoing in a way I had once found eirie.

6 years ago i move to america with my parents. since i can’t speak any english my first america life is just stay at home.do same thing all day every day.

I imagined how uncomfortable and unfortunate the Ghetto was going to be because the population would increase as more Jews were being transported. My father demanded my siblings and I to pack clothes and significant supplies. I didn’t have much clothing in my closet, so I only packed 3 outfits, 2 pair of socks, 5 clean underwear and my running shoes. Attempting to think of anything significant that I would take I chose to snatch a black and white wrinkled picture of my family and a couple of snacks that were placed in the pantry. As hours passed, and my anxiousness grew, it was already the day I never thought would occur. The clock struck 4:00 and as we exited our house, all of our friends and neighbors exited as well forming a line towards the trains. As I looked back to see if there was anyone still coming out of there house, the corner of my eye captured two German officials dragging a teenager and his mom out of their house after they had been knocked out with the edge of an M1941 Johnson. There forehead had many wounds and bruises as if they were hit multiple times. I didn’t focus too much on it because my focus was already mainly on remaining next to my

The day that the Warsaw ghetto uprising happened. I’m now 12 and I’m slowly understanding more about what’s happening in the ghettos. Some of the Jewish men and women are smuggling weapons and i'm not exactly sure why but I know it's for a good cause. After the uprising there were men and women being dragged out of their homes and shot in front of their children. There were whispers along the streets that the ghettos that took charge in the revolt were burned down forcing the Jews out and the Germans killed over half of the people. That night i went underground with Adina without our parents knowing a man stood up on a wood table and shouted “We know this is defeat but are we willing to fight more or give up our lives to them?” There were people screaming “no this is our life!” Adina and I heard footsteps so we ran back to our house.

One afternoon a couple weeks after the war had ended, when my siblings and I had gotten home from school, my mother was at home. She normally wouldn’t get home until later because of her job, so I immediately knew something was wrong. She told us that her job got taken away from her because a man had wanted it since he just got back from the war. My mother was not happy about that for many reasons. One was because some things were going back to the way they were before the war and another was she needed the job just as much as that man since father had still not returned.

When I found out I was going to have to move with my dad in California soon that news hit me like some bricks. My dad was more like a fucking sperm donor than dad, he sent money here and there but everysince he got remarried I hardly ever saw him. Don't get me wrong he wasn't a dead beat ass dad but his absence sure as hell wasn't appreciated. "Ma" I called real loud from upstairs in my

My parents divorced when I was five, so I was raised in a single parent home by my mother. My aunt and mother both instilled in me what it means to be a strong, independent, God fearing woman. From the time I was born I attended church regularly, praise dancing and singing in the choir. Being able to touch someone while ministering the word of God is one of the greatest privliges I’ve had.

Devastated, I ran to my room gushing my eyes out. All these emotions going through my head of how my life would be without my parents in the same room or even house. From what I remember it all started about mid-June, the weeks before that were crucial. My parents would always argue over how to deal with a situation between me and my brother, Skyler. They hardly spoke to one another, but when they did they would just start bickering. I remember, one night after dinner they both went into ''their'' room with the door locked yelling at one another. Skyler and I didn’t know what to do, so we went downstairs and tried to figure out what was going to happen. With a scared tone I asked if mom and dad were going to get a divorce?" He answered back '' No, they love each other, they wouldn’t do that to us." That following night, was a school night everything was quiet except for my crying. I couldn’t sleep; all I was thinking about how it's going to affect my family.