My Childhood Memory

I remember the first time I started to like basket ball. I was never a baseball

When I was nine years old, my dad had an accident that caused him to become paraplegic. As years passed, my father’s physical state went from paraplegic to quadriplegic. I felt alone and fell into depression as each year passed because there was never a sign of hope. I didn’t want to upset my mother by telling her that I might be depressed. So I took on myself to find a way. Since I was young and stupid, the only way I found was religion. So, I became religious hoping that my dad would become better if I prayed. However, my mother took this the wrong way, assuming I wanted to get married. In one week my parents found a guy in Pakistan. My parents took advantage of my religious phase by knowing that in our religion girls have to obey their

Growing up I never had the typical childhood. My parents had me when they were still teenagers in High School. They were not financially stable enough to take care of me, considering they were young and had no jobs. My mother dropped out to start working and my dad got his GED at an adult school before he started to work. For a while we were living in a motel because my parents were not on good terms with their own parents at the time. Although I was too young to remember our lives in the motels, I gathered enough insight on how it was for my parents, and it was not pretty. Since my parents were never together officially, after the motel stage, we never slept in the same house all together. My mom eventually moved in with my sisters dad, which

It is obvious that life is not easy and every normal person faces events that they struggle with. One huge event changed everything at such a young age and the effects of one major decision will forever impact my life. When I was only two years old, my parents decided to divorce because they were not compatible for one another. With myself being so young at the time, I did not comprehend what was happening until I grew up more but, little did I know my life would change so much. About a year after my parent’s divorce, they both got remarried and I had a step mom and step dad. Since I was so young I considered both to be another set of parents to me. My step mom had another daughter who I got to grow up with. We always have gotten along and even now we are very close. My

Growing up in my house hold was almost like any other; my dad went to work every day early in the morning and came home around six o’clock and my mom a stay at home mom who took care of her six children myself included of course. Until late August of 2005 that is when my whole life changed in just a flash. It was a normal Saturday morning or so I thought: I was watching cartoons in my room waiting for breakfast when all of a sudden I heard a loud scream and crying coming from my parent’s room and heard my mom shout to my second eldest brother “Jeff call the Pastor NOW!” I got up and ran into their room and watched as my mom sobbed into my dad’s arms wrapped around her and tears filled his eyes as well. In that moment I knew something was horribly wrong. I looked up and got the courage to ask what was wrong and my dad told me the news. My brother, who was eight years older than me, had passed away that morning. Nothing was the same after that our family was no longer whole.

When I was younger about 12 maybe 13 years old I could tell you many wonderful things about my parents. They would always talk to one another, have smiles on their faces, they were practically joined by the hip. It was very rare for them to argue. However when they did argue things always got ugly. My mother would be crying for hours and my father would leave the house and not return for days on end. It came to no surprise when it surfaced that my father was cheating on my mother during those days. After that, the household dynamic shifted drastically. My mother became the breadwinner of the house while my father began doing less and less. Ultimately, my mother and father decided to separate. Looking back now, I can understand why they were

They weren’t accepting of the idea that their child who they raised to be just like them for eleven years was abounding her faith, but I didn’t care, they could whine and cry for all I cared, it was never going to bring back my faith in Allah (which was never there to begin with). I went on some soul searching, trying to get a better - clear definition of self - and then I discovered African spirituality. What is African spirituality? Its the traditional beliefs and practices of African people before Arab or European colonisation. I eventually found out about the ancient beliefs/culture and god of my ancestors which was been around longer than Christianity or Islam and converted to

My parents raised me in Christian home since I was born. They would take me to church every time they had the opportunity to take me. However, once I was seven years old, my parents, unfortunately, left the church because they disliked how the new pastor was running the church. Growing up, my parents never fully rejected the Gospel and biblical values, although they stopped regularly attending a church. One a year I would attend church, but I never took it seriously. After leaving the church, my parents constantly argued. Once I turned sixteen, my father became violent towards my mother. Authorities had to get involved at one point. Attempting to restore their relationship, they decided to visit a church that my father's brother was attending.

As a child I remeber a day that my brother’s father put his hands on my mother. The visual pops up in my head sometimes and it just makes me know that if my mother can get through that I can get through anything. It was a bright day and I was preparing myself for school, I wasn’t no older that 12 at the time. My regular routine was done and I sat on the couch waiting for my mother walk out her bedroom door. I heard a little bit of bickering and arguing but I paid it no mind. Momment later my mother rushed out her room one arm through her jacket signaling for me to walk out the door. Before I grasp the door handle I hedard the gasp of my mothers voice and immediatly turned around to find my mom forced onto the couch by this big buff figure.

Some of my fondest childhood memories are of camping trips my parents would take me on starting at a very young age. These memories consist of walking a dark forest trail in the middle of the night, black bags hanging from the hands of all the young children with hopes of catching the mysterious snipe that had been roaming the woods, gathering around warm fires on cool nights with people you barely know and hearing out their past adventures, hoping to one day to take their place with adventurous of my own, getting poison ivy rashes from roaming too far off the trail, scraping up my elbows and knees tumbling over and through rough trails, and getting a fishing hook to wedge itself deeply into my palm. Every day was some plan to try

The year is 2011 and my parents are staring at me across the dinning room table. The only thing on my mind is that I am in trouble. At eleven years old I could not fathom what was about to come. The fights and withdrawn attitudes should have prepared me for what they said, but they did not. I never thought my parents would separate, and at such a young age it was hard to comprehend. I knew that my family was about to change forever. My dad treated me like a princess, while my mom pushed me in school and extracurricular activities. My parents evened each other out. When my mother and I had a problem, my dad helped us work it out. He was my rock while my mom was someone I thought I had to love. Our communication centered on things like girl scouts, soccer, or praise dance. I always felt she loved my brothers more than me. For a while that was fine, I had my dad who hung the moon and the stars for me.

Have you ever had a situation so confusing, so hurtful that these moments turned a short amount of your life into a series of worries and uncertainties? My mom, my two sisters, and I had our first experience like this in August of 2014. My junior year was beginning, which also brought the stress of schoolwork, the desires of wanting to fit in, and of course being a teenager, the worries of being judged. Little did I know, those things were small compared to the trials I would face in the days to come.

My parents are both from different countries, My mother was born in Mexico while my father was born in El Salvador. After coming to America both were enrolled by my grandparents too Lee High School. Both of my parents did not know english at all so they had to take ESL classes which filled most of their high school schedule. In those classes they interacted and formed a connection between each other, shortly after that they began dating and going out to different areas just to have a couple more minutes together. Their connection grew even greater which led my father to presenting my mother to his family. At the age of eighteen my mother was impregnated and decided to drop out of highschool; my father followed her idea and dropped out as well

During my parents ' divorce, I had learned things no eighth grader should need to know about my parents relationship. The way I viewed my dad changed dramatically based on his efforts to maintain a relationship with me and my sister and his mental health. When I was about to start my freshman year in high school, my dad had officially lost all hope of trying to redevelop a relationship with me. We had family out from his side to celebrate my sister, Olivia’s, communion. To me, it seemed like everything was fine and there was no tension between anyone, however at the end of the ceremony my mom was left in tears and everyone was upset after my dad had yelled at the priest, causing a scene, then leaving the church.

As I take a look back on my life, I realize how great it has truly been. I had an absolutely amazing childhood and I am beyond blessed for it. I grew up in a home with two loving parents that have been with me through it all and now of days that is something to be truly thankful for. My parents taught me to strive to be anything that I wanted and that I could be anything that I set my mind to. These dreams changed throughout my life as I grew older and as I grew into the person that I am today.