My Best Friend - Original Writing

“To your Grandma's house!” My mom hollered. I heard her coming up the stairs to collect me and my things. “Ok, ok. I'm coming” I said when she had gotten to the doorway to my bedroom. “Meet you in the car” My mom smiled and then turned to head back downstairs.

When you stare at the stars for too long your vision will blur, and if you don 't blink the stars will disappear and you will be left with the empty night sky. I can 't count how many nights I spent lying in my driveway staring at the stars. My best friend and I had made a habit of staying out too late laughing and crying until there was no light left. When I remember these times I always remember Abby 's shoes. She and I used to prop our feet up against the bricks of my house and just talk about whatever came to mind. Her red converse next to my bare feet. Although, we fed off each other in a way because whenever one of us was upset or angry the other was sure to follow. We had not been apart much during our lives. When I was 5 she moved

As a child I remembered my dog cookie, living far from any neighbors, cookie was my best friend. On every adventure she was right by my side. A pets love is a special thing to a child, most of my best memories involve her. I still remember picking her out from the pound, the worker referred to her as “the mutt”. To me that said it all, mutt sounded cool and really tough. So of course to really prove how tough she was, she was named after a dessert treat. I can recall all the times we swam in the bayou, snuck out of chores to play, and shared snacks in the yard. I also remember the day that cookie was tired, and hurting and how we had to go say our goodbyes to her so she can feel better. After ten years passed I can still remember almost

If I am going to tell the story of my life I might as well start at the beginning, the very beginning, my parents. My mom is Monica Ann Hill. She is a quarter Italian and a quarter German. She was born to Cathleen Trosen and Gary Trosen on August 29th, 1973 in Covina, California. Her parents were divorced when she was a teenager and her mom later remarried to Boud Jackson. My Grandpa Bob. My mom was baptised a member of the LDS Church at the age 16 and went to college at BYU, Brigham Young University, where she met my dad. My dad is Paul Clement Hill. He is a quarter Scottish, a quarter Welsh, and a quarter English. He was born to Audrey Hill and Donald Hill on August 29th, 1973 in Bangkok, Thailand. He was born there because his dad was an international banker. He later moved to many other places ending in Connecticut, USA. He was baptised a member of the church at the age 8. He also went to college at BYU, and after meeting my mom served an LDS mission in California. After his mission they married in the Salt Lake, UT temple.

A few years ago when I arrived in the United States, specifically in Arizona I met a group of people who were from Cuba just like me. From that group, I became closer to Eduardo someone who I consider to be one of my best friends. When I met him, he was 20 years of age and from my point of view, his appearance resembled that of a man. One day while we engaged in one of our typical conversations, he began to cry unexpectedly. I was completely shocked and concerned as I was not aware of what was occurring to him. He then started confessing that throughout his life he had been trapped inside the body of a man and that he didn’t feel comfortable with the person he was obligated to represent. I didn’t entirely comprehend what he implied as “being obligated” until the day I met his parents. From that moment on everything began to make sense, Eduardo’s family was what we could classify as “traditional”. Coming from a traditional Latino family, it is important to keep the image of a real man as someone who portrays exaggerating masculine characteristics or in other words, someone who appears and performs like a “macho”. In Eduardo’s case, his community in Cuba didn’t accept his “feminine” behavior because it didn’t satisfy their expectations of what it signified to be a man. Thus, in the eyes of his family, Eduardo was a humiliation and so he was forced to imitate a man. Nonetheless, it wasn’t until he starting living in the United States that he initiated his gender transition

BOOM! The doors busted, open gunshots fired. A grenade went off, echoing through the room. Grenade shrapnel flew everywhere. The next thing I knew, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I looked down and saw that blood was oozing out of the fresh wound. Suddenly, things started to get blurry, the room was spinning, and then everything went black. My life was flashing through my mind, I was sure that I was going to die. My mind was going all over the place, then it stopped. It stopped where it all began.

I gently crept out of my bedroom and tiptoed past my parents’, to make sure they were asleep. Satisfied with hearing two sets of snoring, I scuttled backwards and shut my door quietly. My heart was already racing. I could hear my pulse pounding in my head. Quietly as possible, I pulled my jeans and boots on and slid my window open. That alone probably took two whole minutes. The window was squeaky unless you slid it up just right.

I pull the covers back and slowly get in bed. I lean my head back onto the pillow as my head sinks in. Safely tucked away in my bed, I start to think about the stress I have from unfinished homework and upcoming tests. My legs are burning and my body aching from running up and down the court. I 'm exhausted from the long day at school and a rough day at practice; i 'm ready to fall asleep. As I close my eyes everything seems to disappear and I slowly drift asleep.

“So, it 's suppose to be sunny with few clouds, and about 75 degrees a beautiful day out today.” The weatherman on T.V.said as he flashed a fake smile on his face. I clicked the power button, and threw down the remote on the couch. And ran outside clutching the money my dad gave me for ice cream, tight in my hand. I saw the group sitting outside getting ready to go.I could see myself sitting in the back on the porch, eating the delicious flurry that I was soon to order.

"Owen!" My mother yelled at me as I came down the stairs, as if I 'd done something seriously wrong. My mind raced as I tried to recall everything I had done in the past weeks.

I sprinted. I sprinted until my lungs burned, and my legs just couldn’t move anymore. I began to quiver with exhaustion. I knew he was still back there. Somewhere, hiding with his knife. Watching. I’d barely escaped with my life, he knew it and I knew it. I knew he was still on to me. Waiting until the perfect moment for when I wasn’t quite paying enough attention. He’d catch me off guard. I peer around, looking for a quick escape route through the tall dark trees. Granted, I could hide, but I’m terrified that he’ll find me, and I’ll have no chance to run.

“Mohammed your sister is not going to leave easy. We raised her to be under our wing not out on her own. You’re brave Mohammed you need to get Bana on that plane and keep her going so that she can live a long happy life even though we are not in that life. Will you do that for me?” My father said to me. Me and my father were never close with him working and all, but this was the first time I actually felt like we knew each other.

I wake up thinking I am in our old house in the countryside. The sun streams through the window across the rolling hills, and a calm wind blows on my face. Soon the day will begin . . . another long day of weaving cloth.

One summer morning around about nine AM I was sound asleep, however until I smelled an unfamiliar odor and not sure what it was I paid it no mind. Before I could get up and wash my face my mother pushed my room door open yelling INDYA GET UP THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE!! I jumped up. Our house isn’t but so big, so when I ran out my room, I saw the flames coming out of the kitchen. My first thought was my little brother; his room is straight through the kitchen. My mom then said my brother was not in his room. It was my little cousin; I could barely breathe so I ran outside. Forgetting my phone in the house I quickly go in the house, grab my phone run out of the house. Now let me tell you about this life changing experience.

There were various places that I dreamt of visiting when I was a child. My whole life, I wanted to visit Spain because of it’s impressive architectural buildings, the culture, and history behind the whole country. Not to mention, the food in Spain is absolutely delightful. As I grew older, I became less fond of my desired destinations. I only cared to visit Spain because of its physical appearance other than to learn about the culture and history. I learned over the years to never “ judge a book by it 's cover.” To explain further, I have fancied numerous of places because they are portrayed as attractive in my eyes. Instead, I’ve decided to visit a place where I can learn more about its culture. Throughout