My Family 's Summer Cabin

Although I had an older brother and sister, I felt alone a great deal of the time I was growing up. I never "acted out" my need for attention. I did not get bad grades in school. On the contrary, I was a quiet child who made the honor roll. I was always given my sisters hand-me-downs which I resented. My grandmother was very strict and often cold. There were never hugs or kisses and not once do I remember an I love you. My father still came to visit, but remarried when I was eight. His new wife was like something out of a horror novel. The mental torture that I endured was a million times worse than what Cinderella went through. My grandmother along with my brother and sister came up with a nickname for me. They called me dog and taunted me every time we passed the pet supplies in the grocery store. At the age of ten my beloved paternal grandmother Memo, the only light in my otherwise dark world, died in her sleep while I was in the next room. I sat and watched as the paramedics tried to revive her with no success. On the car ride back home, my stepmother screamed at my father to "shut me up and stop my crying," as if what I had just been through should not have affected me at all. She left my father a few years later. At fifteen I ran away from my grandmothers house and went to live with my dad. I was receiving survivors support which I never saw once I moved in with my father. Although I did not know it

It all started on a warm sunny day, my dad had just arrived from Michigan. He came into the house gave my siblings, my mother and me a hug and told us the big news. “We are moving to Michigan” he said. He said it so calmly as if expecting my siblings, my mother and myself to react in a good way. Immediately I started to panic, I didn’t want to leave the place I grew up in. I was only eleven years old, I didn’t know how the people in Michigan would be. Finally I spoke “ I don’t want to move dad, I love it here!” which he responded with “I’m sorry but we are going to move because we can’t afford to live here anymore” He said this so emotionless as if not knowing how this could affect me. I hardly got any sleep that night for the fact that my parents were arguing for what felt like all night, but in reality was just an hour.

They were not pleased with Snow though. They wanted to skin him and use him as a throw rug for the living room. I refused and refused until they allowed me to keep him. Now, today is my birthday and i am turning 15. I think today will be a good day. I want to go for a walk but I don't think that I can with my uncle and aunt. Ever since I have been here my food tasted different and different ever time. They are most likely poisoning me little by little. I keep thinking what happened on that island and my heart keeps getting even more clouded. People at my school keep asking me what it was like living on an island and I continue to tell them go see for yourself. I am getting tired of telling them the same thing every time. I hope today at school will be different. On this special day I will be even more distant. My aunt is calling me for breakfast but I don't eat allot of the food anymore. I eat only a few bites and I then leave. I got up and went to the door and I was stopped by the maid and she fixed my out fit, and then she said "you're growing up more

As a child, I was quiet and withdrawn. I taught myself to read when I was three, and spent most of my time reading instead of playing with other children. I understood very early that I was different from others at school. I didn’t have to pay for lunch, something I found (and to be honest, still find) completely mortifying. My father was almost never home, always trucking all over the country in an effort to keep our family afloat. When other kids talked about their dads in school, I often found myself feeling jealous. I, too, wanted a dad who could teach me how to ride a bike or throw a ball. I also understood that it was impossible for me to have that, because my father worked around the clock to keep my family from going hungry. I realized that in order to achieve the things that I wanted to, i would have to take the initiative and do it myself. I borrowed my sister’s bike (although it was much too tall for me to use comfortably), and I practiced riding it until i knew i was better at it than any other 7 year

Before I come to Canada I lived in Turkey for full five years. I had some good, but mostly bad memories of life in Turkey. The people who live in Turkey can sometimes be so mean and raciest. Once I was at the park with my friend Sara who was a quiet and a calm girl that was from my country. Sara was a friend who I would call my sister. I was on a swing with Sara that a Turkish girl wanted to use. She looked around seven years old and had dark hair and I was nine years old at that time. It wasn’t too long before I saw an angry woman walking toward me; I got scared and told Sara " I wonder why she is so angry." The first word that came out of that angry woman's mouth was " All of you come from other countries and use the swings that our children are supposed to use." I got really upset, I felt a sword just went through my heart. I wanted to tell her that for us to live in her country we pay her government monthly. But, I didn’t say anything and ran to my mom immediately. I went to my mom and started talking like a radio that wouldn’t stop. My mom shook her head and told me "It's okay." And offered me a ice

It was a quiet warm fall night one of those fall days that you can smell the leaves decomposing on the ground at Acadia National Park on the BeeHive trail when there was a shrill shreek and a loud gasp. I had been at Acadia National Park since Friday it was Sunday my last day here. Later me and my mom had decided to go on one of the hardest trails for our last trail, it is called the BeeHive. This is a special trail that uses rungs for parts of it because of how steep it is. I was half way up the trail when I tried to halt but it was too late, the sand had concealed the wet, slippery leaves. Seconds after I was optimistic that I could hold my balance I then got sceptical about standing still I tried to move and then I dropped off the side of

After a good night’s rest, we headed off to the trail. We had to take frequent breaks, because the air was super thin. The trail was rocky, uneven, and slippery. If I were to fall that would be very very bad. I thought it was easy, but then the impossible happened.

My father drops me off at school on a Saturday morning at 7:00 am with me fully dressed in the brown and turquoise snowsuit my mama had gotten me a few days before. As we pull into the elementary schools parking lot we see a dozen of other kids fully dressed to go on the ski and snowboarding trip like myself. I have never gone skiing before but I'm sure it will be fun, Daddy says that once I learn we can go up to the Bogus ski resort as a family. I say goodbye to my daddy and wish that he would be the one picking me up later that night when we get back but he has to take care of my baby sister Anna since Mama is gone. She won't be gone for long though, because she is coming back home tomorrow or the next day. Whenever the weather is good for

As my upper body shifted to the right, everything from my waist and below stayed true to the course, including the ski poles. I ran over the handle of my ski pole, with my stomach. The pole was pushed up into my lower abdomen, propelling me off of the slope entirely, I was airborne. I landed on my back, completely out breath, and dazed to the point I had no recollection of where I was. The next moment was particularly scary for me, all I can recall was the ringing of a whistle in my ear, and the red lights flashing from the ski patrols snowmobiles. Unsure of any injuries, the ski patrol had braced my back and neck, strapped me to a board, and began to tow me down the mountain.

The next day, my family piled into the car and began our road trip, driving from Mississippi to San Diego which was about a two week trip. All five of us, were in the car, my siblings were the ages of 4 and 6, and I was 11, I didn’t get along with my siblings, and had no intent to. The whole drive I didn’t want to talk to anyone or show any signs of emotion. I knew that I was going to make friends eventually, but I didn’t know how I was going to, considering I didn’t really know who I was, exactly what I liked or how to talk to

Unexpectedly, my father called and with an unsteady voice explained, “I had to take your mother to the emergency room, and she is now being admitted to the hospital.” At age 13, this phone call began the most dreadful time of my life. Prior to this event, I was exceedingly dependent on my parents and even struggled with separating from them. In the beginning of my mother’s hospital stay, my familymy parents and two, younger sisters were constantly divided. My father stayed in the hospital with my mother, while my sisters and I would switch between caring family members and friends. Eventually I grew tired of different environments and decided that staying home alone was the far better option. As a result, I appreciate independence and know how to solely maintain a home.

     Going back forty-five years is not an easy task to complete because I can’t remember some of the finer details of my childhood. I know I was born on a hot August afternoon in Birth Year at Place Of Birth in City ands State. My mother was just twenty-two at the time and was already the mother of two, I was her third child. My father was twenty-one and already a workaholic, I know because my mother would constantly remind me not to be like that. My mother and father were good parents and they tried to give us the best upbringing they could. My father was the kind of person that believed he should provide and protect his family, and he did a very good job of doing that.

I can kind of relate to this story, because I remember growing up on a dairy farm family and we lived in a big, drafty, old farmhouse, with a fireplace in the living room and heavy duty wood furnace in the cellar. I had to get up with my father and help get the fires going, before we went out to do the morning milking. I remember that the morning air was as cold as my relationship with my father. The child, parent relationship is a complicated one, because there are so many conflicting feelings and when we’re young, we might not understand these feelings. We do not understand our parents’ motivations, until we are older and able to understand what our parents have sacrificed for us.

My habitual origin was a low-income household. That type of environment instills the mentality that “you have to get it how you live.” At the time, the unsubstantial status of my mother’s financial stability caused certain difficulties to come to pass. One instance of an difficulty that came to pass due to the unsubstantial status of my mother's financial stability was that she could only buy one pair of uniform for every other school year. I was aware of how the other children were mocking me behind my back, although some even chose to do so in front of my face. At the time I did not understand how materialistic parents unintentionally raise their children to be because my parents raised me to just seek happiness in every dark situation. I began to resent my parents for the financial difficulties I inherited.

When I was young my mother and my father both had very different opinions on how you should raise a child. And since my father was the one paying the bills and bringing home the paychecks for a few years, I didn’t really get to see him much because he worked all day. So my mother was the one who raised me for the most part. At the time she would spoil me like crazy. If I asked for something the answer would always be yes, and if I didn’t get my way I would start having a fit until she finally caved in. You could’ve called me a crybaby, go ahead I would’ve said the same thing. Because I was. My father’s best friend who had two twins both the same age as me invited me, my father and my mother over to there place for an easter egg hunt easter morning. During the easter egg hunt, me and my friend both turned a corner at the same time. He saw an egg and as he was going to grab it, I saw it and tried to get it also. He got there before me and I started to have a fit right there and then. I could remember my mother rushing up to see what’s wrong. After I told her what had happened she got me to stop crying and gave me extra candy. My dad knew that by her raising me like this I wouldn’t be able to get anywhere in life without someone being there whenever something went wrong, so he told her to take the candy back and to tell me to get over it and that not everything in life will be fair. She took that the wrong way and got mad at my dad for “not being a good parent” because didn’t