Where was I expected to go now that my father no longer wanted me living in his house? I remember asking myself this question over and over. I had just been dropped off, back in my home town, at my grandparent’s house after a long and excruciatingly quiet car ride. I had sat in the backseat of my father’s SUV, not a single word spoken between us. The entire time all I had to think about was where I would go once we arrive at our destination. I can’t stay with my grandparent’s for the next two years
was raised in Jellico, Tennessee, a quaint town bordering Kentucky with my parents, and three older sisters. My family was extremely religious up until I was nearly a teenager. My family attended church every week, in addition to leading the church youth group. One would be under the impression that the Hughes family was an exceedingly wholesome family that did little wrong, I was under this impression also. Being a white family in an old-fashioned town in both the south and the bible belt, this was
I lived there for twelve years, it was all I ever knew. My parents got divorced right after I was born and I lived with my mom and my two sisters. My mom was tall and skinny with tan skin, dark brown eyes and long brown hair. I felt like I never really knew her growing up though because she worked often. I was always left with my two sisters and occasionally with one of my mom’s many boyfriends. I was the youngest of my sisters. Eventually my mom found a decent man. His name was Steve and he was tall
grew up raised on religion, that’s all my family ever talked about; “What would the Lord want?” I loved having rules to live by and knowing that someone was watching over me. I brought religion to my own family. My wife and son, they knew how important religion was to me. It’s ironic how religion, the thing I loved so much, led me to this… jail. I started hearing the voice a few months before I became trapped in this cell. The voice would ask me about my faith and told me that I had an important
California with my parents, two brothers and one sister. My family was very close to each other, my neighbors were my three cousins. We were always outside playing soccer and told each other scary stories to see who was the scary cat of us all. Ever morning we walked to school with our ziplock bags with cereal and milk. Being just a little kid it never came to mind being apart from my cousins. Los Angeles is a very crowded ,fast living place to live in, and extremely expensive in cost of living. My mother
When I was younger, my mom would rent out our basement room to single people she would work with in the military. I personally loved it because it meant that there were more people around I could harass into playing with me. However, I was always confused when I would hear my grandparents berate my mother for letting “those people” into our home. I remained confused, until I asked my mother what they meant, and why they were so angry. She described to me how “old fashioned” my grandparents were and
As families go, mine was what I thought of as normal – whatever normal may mean. We always took our summer family vacations in Durness in the Northwestern Highlands of Scotland. My Seanmhair, Skye Sutherland on my father’s side lived in a converted crofter cottage on the edge of the cliffs above the sea. The cottage is made of the same stone as the low walls near the cottage. I always loved going back each year to my father’s childhood home. The Highlands of Scotland were more than just the
in the morning. I stood in the doorway of my parent’s bedroom watching my parents crying their eyes out while yelling at my sister. "How could this happen to you? Why did you want to do this? Why did I get a call from the cops at two in the morning saying that you were thinking about killing yourself," my mom yells, fiercely shaking in fear. "I hate my life," my sister screams back at them practically swimming in her own tears. By this point, both of my brothers have awoken and are now standing alongside
perfect family photo, they imagine a family with fancy clothing, a bright sunny day, green grass and faces that have been enhanced. When my family takes photos they are not quite that picture perfect family that’s advertise but a family that goes deeper than perfection. I come from a fairly large family with five sisters, one brother and that includes my parents four grandchildren and one son-in-law. My sisters are in the middle row off to the left side, my brothers hand is wrapped around my mother
when i write What I do when I write depends entirely on what I'm writing, who I'm writing for, and how soon it needs to be done. I have somewhat of a different approach to writing when the piece is for an assignment versus a work of original fiction. I prepare, pre-write, and proofread differently. However, some things remain the same. I still try to get the same amount of feedback from my peers, still put forth the same effort. Whether the work is for pleasure or for a grade