My Experience With My Dad

Growing up in a Latino household is hard. My parents only spoke Spanish therefore my first language was Spanish. For the first few years of my life this was not really a problem, I enjoyed life as any normal little girl would. I got to talk to all of my cousins and all of the neighbor’s children. It wasn’t until I got to school that it became real that I was going to learn English. Don’t get me wrong I always knew I had to learn English my parents always talked to me about school and helped me as much as they could. It was also around this same time where I started to understand that it was not only hard for me it was hard for them as well. My parents had to live in this country not knowing the main language spoken.

This was not surprising, nor was it an issue, since my parents both spoke Spanish at home. I recall my mother carrying around a Spanish-to-English dictionary religiously, pulling it out in grocery stores or doctor’s appointments to able to communicate with the strangers around her. The language barrier first became an issue at age four, when I was set to start preschool. I could not go in blindly, and so in the months leading up to the day my parents spent hours teaching me the little English they had acquired.

My mother only spoke spanish, but I learned to speak it by observing and listening to her, as well as my father. She told me she read me books, numbers and the vowels in spanish, yet I don’t remember when that occurred. What I do remember is running excitedly to the sofa, waiting for “Dora the Explorer” to get on. Watching and guessing Dora’s questions was a fun adventure for me, plus

When I was four I only knew how to speak Spanish, nothing else. But like the way my awesome parents are, they wanted me to go to school. So I, at the age four had to learn to speak English within a year. Considering the fact that I was just in the middle of learning Spanish, it was pretty hard to shift gears. I could speak in Spanish you know, the basics or baby words like; Eat, bathroom, No!, why?, play, beans, rice, please, and thank you. (And yes, I did have manners.) When I would talk Spanish, I would say stuff like, “Quiero ir parke” “Want go park,” And my parents, they understood me because they were the ones who taught me. Then suddenly to me they started to speak gibberish or something. My dad doesn't speak great English but I could tell he wasn’t speaking Spanish either.

My father was a lifeguard, but not in my lifetime, so maybe loving the ocean was in our blood. As children we grew up in Brooklyn and we would go to Riis Park for our day at the beach. One very distinct memory is of my father as he stood waist deep in the ocean with my brother and sister; the waves periodically lifted and dropped them in the water at his side. Waist deep for my father meant it was well over my head so I remained a safe distance (or so I thought) behind them. Suddenly, a wave appeared and and before I could turn and rush to the shoreline the ocean attacked. I found myself in a world of foam, pockets of air allowed me to breathe as I was tossed about like

It was the spring of 2013. My mom took me out of school early that day because we needed to get driving to Dike, Iowa. Since my sister is also a volleyball player, she has state that same weekend, but not in the same place. However, the sophomores were at the same place we were. Anyhow, my sister drove with my mom to the hotel her team was staying at, and I drove with my dad. I’m a lot like my dad so I get ready pretty quickly and I only pack what’s needed. When I got home, it took me about five minutes to get ready since I packed my bag the day before. On the other hand, my mom had to take at least half an hour to “fix” her makeup and her hair, and my sister took about forty-five minutes just to pack her bag! Anyways, my dad and I made it

“La la la!” I was running around my room dancing to Kidz Bop on Pandora. My blonde hair half up half down.

This is what biking means to me. This is a simple moment but in my mind it’s quite complex. How it makes me disappear and how i feel quiet, and calm. My moment is biking down a big hill.

In 2005, it was 75 degrees in Tampa, Florida and my dad, sister, and I were at the beach. I was only eight years old and I felt relaxed. Growing up in Florida was tough because it was only my dad that took care of us. Every morning he wakes up at 6 A.M, makes his coffee, wakes my sister and I up, makes breakfast, and bring us to day care. Since my mom was not around it was difficult for him, being a single parent trying to make means for his family. Just like in “Aunt Alice vs. Bob Marley,” Kareem Kennedy’s aunt describes her parents as “hard workers.” She said, “Mom didn’t have to work, but she chose to work because she wanted to make sure we had everything. They always made sure we had a decent meal.”

I dashed into the brush to find cover, the rain was pelting on my back. It was my first Boy Scout outing and we were playing a game of capture the flag, but the lightning was coming, we all could see it off in the distance.

I remember when my Dad and I were at my old house playing catch. After we would finish playing catch he would tell me what I need to work on and help me out. My Dad helps out a lot of people, like his patients. He is a very skilled eye doctor and helps many people everyday. He is also a very good athlete, ever since he was a kid to a grown man.

When I was eight years old, I realized I was slightly different from my dad, but very similar. My dad, and my brother, and I were sitting upstairs in our room and my dad said, “I’m gonna draw something for you guys to guess.” So my brother and I sat there waiting and watched him draw it. My brother and I were interested and what he was drawing and we really liked it. My dad made sure the drawing was well done so we could all guess what it was. He was getting close to the end and me and my brother kept trying to guess it and have fun with it. It took a minute for my brother and I to guess it, but when we finally got it is when I realized I wasn't talented at drawing like my dad and I don't like to draw as much as him. Although I had fun with him, we are very different.

I was in like 7th or 8th grade. One night, my mom comes and asks to pack for a night and get my shoes on. I ask her where we’re going. She wouldn’t tell me, so I didn’t get ready to go anywhere. Then my dad comes down and they start arguing. Earlier that day, my dad had drank like 2 beers while me and him were cleaning out our garage. We were going through some cabinets and there were bottles of alcohol in one. My dad took them inside to hide them inside because her and one of her friends had gotten drunk one night and her friend hit his head and fell down his steps. So as he was carrying them inside, my dad dropped one of the bottles and it fell down our step. Luckily it didn’t break. My dad and brother were arguing over something earlier

My heart was so fucking heavy watching my girl lay in that coma and the love that Dmitri showed her was just everything. My girl finally had the man she deserved, I was so overjoyed when she came back to us. My mind was set on one thing planning my wedding until my period didn't show up, so here I am pissing on the fucking stick of shame for any unmarried woman. Yes, I knew Redd would take care of our child and yes we were engaged but we were not married and I don't think we are ready for a baby. But if I was pregnant we weren't leaving this island until I had his last name, shit our only family was right here with us. I came out of the bathroom after saying a quick prayer, I picked up a half sleep Lyric and rocked her in my arms, “Shanice

The hardest time in a person's life is often following the death of a close family member. Death is hard, losing someone you love and see on a daily basis causes great grief and sorrow. For me that special person I lost was my Dad. My father died when I was twelve and it was no doubt the hardest time of my life. Our relationship was indescribable I was his little buddy and we went absolutely everywhere together, and when he died it was like he just disappeared from my life forever. As a young boy you really do not know how to react to such a terrible situation. Neil Ibrahim a father of four dies young and it's just you and your brother left to carry the family name. Throughout the grieving process one learns who really cares about his or hers well being and the upbringing of their children without a father, losing your father makes you more responsible and a more humble person because you are all they left behind.