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My Family

Decent Essays

A Place To Be At?
Family was a word that made me feel like an empty bag, drifty down the wind, not having a clue about . It was a word I heard a lot, my family this and my family that, people I was surrounded with had a family to be with but I didn't have no family here to even spend time with. Sometimes when I heard people talk about their family, I would day dream and imagine how my family was like, what did they like to do and go to family reunions, how many people were in my family, were there some in my family characteristics that I shared with them or were there others that were totally different from mine. I would think what was my mom and dad's side like, what was different about them. All these questions I had floated in my head and left me wondering out for years. Whenever people asked about my family, I would just want to blast off, miles away to my destination and meet them, then land back to the conversion and tell them about my family.
I would watch the videos and observe the pictures of Africa and see how people would eat, celebrate, dance, dress, and live. My dad would always tell stories growing up with most of my family members in church or in the same house together, having about ten people in one room, ten people eating in one big plate, ten people in one car together. He would tell me people in one family would know other families and call each other a big family because there was nothing that made us apart from one another. He would go on and on

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