My Childhood - Original Writing

In june 1994 my mama found out that she was pregnant, this was a shock because my mom wasn’t suppose to be able to birth another child. I became the little miracle growing inside her. The doctor told my parents he was going to do everything he could so I could live, he was a christian man and he told her “we’re going to pray that God does a miracle.” December 5th 1994, a c-section was performed and I was born a premature baby that weighed 2.5 pounds.

As the pitcher scrutinizes the catcher’s signals, the angst of the moment can only escalate; a one way road with no ceasing in sight. He starts his motion, with a fierce confidence, knowing the game is controlled by him. I begin to perceive seconds as hours, realizing the risks that every millisecond emits. The baseball bat prepared above my shoulders gains a million pounds as the ball leaves the hand of my adversary. Thoughts of confusion, possibilities, and worry are quickly overwhelmed by speculation. “Is this traveling fast? Will it be in the strike zone? What if I miss my swing? Is it changing direction? Will it hit me? Can I dodge it?”. THWACK!

The heavy sky, swollen with unspent rain, sagged toward the earth. It was a raining day. I didn’t think I have ever been so serious before. “..When did my mom lose her voice?” I asked my grandma with a heavy tone.

Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis is one of the most intriguing books for not only students of history, but for anyone who can enjoy the historical time that was taking place in Islam through the late 1970s’ and 1980s’. Through the eyes of a child, Marji shows the underlying issues dealing with war from a child’s perspective, moral uncertainty and the impacts on class differences.

Not so long ago, I graduated from college; perhaps the first completed book of my lifetime. I decided to savor it first, knowing how much I invested to achieve it. However, with no absolute control over things, I just found myself being a law student.

Once I graduate from Lewis and Clark with my Associate's in Criminal Justice, I will move on to Lindenwood University and focus on a bachelor's degree in criminal justice. I am getting extremely excited for the closing of this chapter and opening the next chapter of my life.

I always think back to when I was just a kid. I had a happy childhood from what I can remember. My parents both died in their sleep when I was about six years old. Doctors could never find out why, they called it a "medical mystery" or whatever. It was harder on my older brother, Noah. My younger brother Justin was just two years old when it happened. He barely even recalls my parents now. After our parents death, we were adopted by a Japanese couple. It was pretty cool considering our family was also Japanese too, so we wouldn 't lose our culture. Our adoptive parents names are John Izanagi Lee and our mother 's name is Linda Izanami Lee. Our parents always acted weird around us and told us about their lives back in Japan and how people basically worshipped the ground they walked on. When I was about nine, I finally asked why people worshipped them so much back in Japan and they sat me down and told me. They explained to my siblings and I that they are creator God and Goddesses. I was in total disbelief! But I finally believed them of course, my parents had never lied to me, ever. They told us stories of the creation of the Islands of Japan. They then began to explain that my siblings and I were also deities. But we mustn 't tell anyone! They told my brothers all about the job of the Susan-ô, which is the violent god associated with storms and the sea. My older brother, Noah ,was crowned that job. Then my brother Justin was crowned the moon God, Tsuki-yomi. Then it came

When you hear “home,” what do you think about? A perfect little cottage on the hillside, or a dream beach house with the waves crashing in the distance? The house you dream to own when you 're older. The little farm in the middle of nowhere, or the sturdy home in the Rocky Mountains surrounded with the perfectly green trees. Or do you think of your home, the little place you grew up, playing around with siblings, where you loved, laughed,and maybe had a fight now and then. The place that smells of fresh laundry and baked good during the holidays. Where you made the best memories of your childhood, with you imagination with friends, and family? For me, I think of the stone house with the long driveway, trees all way down the curvy road. The smell of evergreens, and freshly mowed lawns. A bit of fresh pulled dirt on the sidewalk from pulling the weeds in the flower bed.

My mom got remarried the year before I started first grade. We moved from our small two bedroom home in Austin, MN to a four bedroom farmhouse that was built in the 1890’s. I grew up most of my childhood in the farmhouse. When I was in 9th grade my family started to build a house just a few feet away from the farmhouse. It took about 5 years to finish the project, with many setbacks along the way. It wasn’t until March of this year that I actually got to live in the beautiful house that my step-dad had put so many hours of hard work and time into. I feel spoiled to death living in this house especially when I think back to what it was like growing up in an old worn out farmhouse.

My childhood was never exactly normal or easy. My parents had split up when I was three and I was sent to live with my grandparents. My dad moved back to Ohio and I never had much of a relationship with him. My mom stayed in North Carolina, but moved to a different city. She had a nice job, a nice relationship, and she even got to visit her kids. I was always much closer to my mother than my father. A few years later, my mom lost her job and decided to move in with us to help take care of everyone. This event marks the start of when I was most happy in life.

I lived in a dominantly white neighborhood, with dominantly white friends, and surrounded by dominantly white role-models. All the girls wore Abercrombie and were on the cheerleading squad, and all the boys wore Ralph Lauren and played lacrosse or football. We played outside until the street light came on, and were told just like every other child about stranger danger. The only difference in my childhood as opposed to every other child in my neighborhood was my older brother. And he had a very large impact on my life.

I was driving home from a typical day of work, where I had recently been promoted to office manager. I enjoyed my job and the promotion had made this day possible. The weather was warm for a spring day and it had finally stopped raining. The leaves on the tree were opening, the grass was green again after being brown for what seems like forever, and the lilac bushes had purple buds that were going to pop open in a day or two, then the smell of lilac would be in the air. It is one of the scents of spring that I love. Spring is the time of year when all things are made new again, it is like the mud of spring and snow of winter had been washed away with the spring rain and now everything was coming out of hibernation. The birds were making nest and laying eggs and the pair of geese that I watched raise their young every year were back.

California has always been my home whether it was down south in San Diego where I grew up or up north in Monterey where I attended Santa Catalina’s summer camp with my sisters. My sisters have always been my best friends but Oksana especially. Oksana is only 2 years older than me but when we were young the best compliment someone could give us is by asking us if we were twins. The fact that my mom always dressed us the same could have contributed to the idea that we were twins. My sister was my best friend everywhere she went I was right behind her. I’ll always remember every vacation, adventure and road trip with her. Even those long road trips where we started in San Diego and ended in Monterey…those will be my favorite. I’ll never forget when I first went to Monterey I was about 8 years old. I was so nervous on the plane ride over there I could have puked. My mother rubbed my back and with her loving words calmed me down. My mother reminded me that my sister was going to be by my side no matter what. The moment when I first walked into the camp that will forever be the moment I remember so vividly especially it’s concrete floors. I remember on those hot summer days playing in the pool and the second I got out of the pool I ran as fast as I could back to my room because the concrete floor was burning my feet. When we arrived at the camp, the concrete floor didn’t bother me because I kept staring at all the girls hugging their parent’s goodbye and camp counselors carrying

Imagine walking into your kitchen and seeing your neighbor 's kid drinking your brothers soda. You’d be freaked out too. this is the true story of my most annoying neighbors.

I grew up in the country, in a town called Juneen, where I was surrounded by paddocks, dams and farm animals. I lived with parents and had twin sisters which are 3 years younger than me. I believed that I was a part of one big happy family, but I was in for a shock. In 2003, my parents announced that they were getting a divorce. At first I didn’t really understand what was going on as I was only 8 years old. I overlooked the fact that there were always tears in mum’s eyes and that most nights I could hear constant yelling. My innocents ignored the reality of what was really going on behind the closed doors.