Your Favorite Childhood Memory Study Guide

Every stair that I took I looked over a different page in the book. I wanted to make sure I knew every word so I could read the story that night. Once I got to my room, my mom was waiting patiently beside the bed for me. I looked down at the book in my hands, it was old, barely hanging on by the thread binding from years of use. Then I breathed in deeply and mumbled “Can I read the story tonight?” I was afraid she couldn’t hear me, but she did because with a smile she nodded her head. Filled with excitement I climbed into my spot on the bed and quickly opened the book. My mom sat next to me and held one side of the big book while her other arm was around my shoulder. Then I begun to read “Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,”. My voice squeaked through each page as I tried my best to read the story just as my mom always did. The smooth paper glided under my tiny finger as I traced each sentence to keep my place. The rhythm of my voice was not fluid but

A lone candle burns into the senseless night. Its wax trickling down its side. I stare at the clock and it is barely half past nine, yet time seems to stand still. I stare at the window and investigate the nasty mesmerizing blizzard falling outside my window. I could not grasp anything other than the snow. All I can do is moan as each passing second this bloody snow lingers and destroys my vision of a perfect Christmas, in which Santa would come and visit me in my sleep. At the time I was only four but I treasured Christmas and the snow surrounding it. Little did I know the damage that it would entail into my life.

Three days earlier on a wintery morning. I walked out of my warm apartment, as the cold breeze instantly smacked me in the face, even with my woolly, Christmas themed sweater and thick, quilted coat I was still cold. The sky was washed with grey clouds, as the ground was covered in crisp, white snow. The wind whooshed and whistled past my ears giving me the shivers; I quickly ran through the deep,

This memory book is about a young Vietnamese, American teen name Trung that grew up in America for the past 13 years, hoping to find a better way to settle things down soon after he graduates from High School. He grew up in a house of 2 siblings, an older brother, and sister which is now living life to their full potential. Trung is a boy that is loved by many of those whom meet him. People mistaken him for being a cranky person, but truly he’s just going through ups and downs. He has good intentions, but just bad moods all the time. Although he was not the brightest kid growing up, he still has the ambition to make a positive change in his work ethic by working hard in school, and he hopes that some day he will eventually succeed in life and

I heard the click of the lock and my mom pushed the door open. We were greeted with an excited Coco. Her tail would wag furiously from left to right, making a thumping noise against the furniture and shakes her entire body in the process. My shoulders relax, and I did not realize how good it feels to be home. My brother pushes past me. The stench coming from his dirty and ripped up football jersey made my nose wrinkle. He rushes ahead to take a shower before dinner. That’s when a familiar smell hits me. A growling noise came from deep inside my stomach, wanting to be fed after a long tiring Thursday at school.

Gravel crunched beneath the tires of my father’s ’95 Chevy Silverado, the same way it had every time we drove up the steep, tortuous path to my grandmother’s home on Christmas Eve. There she was waving excitedly, dressed in her floral nightgown and fuzzy slippers as the snow floated downward around her. She corralled us inside away from the cold. Like I was as light as the snowflakes just beyond the door, she lifted me up into her arms. I laid my head against her chest as she guided my father and me into the living room adorned with wreaths and candles. I closed my eyes and inhaled the aroma of peppermint and freshly baked cookies as my grandmother held me tight. Lights from the glistening tree illuminated the room in red and green.

The book talks about different types of families and how wonderfully different they are made. The book teaches students that they can make families out of anything.

My mother had left my dad’s house slippers by the coat rack behind the door. I was grateful to her as the floor felt like ice. Hanging up my coat, I slipped into my dad’s bathrobe, which was hanging on its peg. We had a fireplace in the living room and the chimney exited the west side of the roof. I smelled the smoke of the dying fire, and I knew my mom was in bed. The bedrooms were located on the second story. Her room was located at the end of the hallway, and my room was at the head of the stairs above the

I open the front door and immediately see the 20 x 30 inch portrait we had professional taken last Winter. I see Adayln’s pearly white smile, Mason’s differently colored eyes that gleam brighter than a splash of water in sunlight. Tears rush down my pale face. I walk upstairs and into Kylar’s room. I am welcomed with his scent. His favorite colon, the one from Macy’s that Dad got him on his 8th birthday. He never missed a day without it on. I go to my room and gather my most prized belongings. The blanket that all six of us made at church, the small family collision of Kylar, Mason, Adayln, and I, the beaded necklace that Mason made me for my 13th birthday, the Pandora Ring that Mommy got me when I became a teenager, and so many more prized items that I fill it three moving boxes. I am ready to leave. I walk out and see my family smiling at

This week I looked at the two pieces “Incident” by Countee Cullen, and “Those Winter Sundays” by Robert Hayden. Both of these pieces represent the theme of memoires and the past. Memories can be good, but sometimes they can bring up pain, regret, and many more feelings. Through analyzing these poems, we can really see what the speaker is feeling, and what kind of emotion these memories bring.

It’s 7am and my parents are coming at 10am. There is no better joy in knowing I get to leave. As I wait for the time to pass by, my thoughts begin to run. I wonder what my home has been like these past phew days. I wonder how angry my father is or how happy he will be when I get home. Will he rape me again or will he beat me till my skin tears open? My life could be so much worse now that I came here. I won’t be protected by these walls anymore. Time flew by and Samantha calls me over. They are here. She gives me a hug goodbye and tells me never to come back again. Laughing, I realize I didn’t say bye to Noah, but it’s too late. I am going

I woke up to a loud-wailing scream of sirens. The sirens of the police cars and ambulance always wakes me up in the morning; it’s a tradition. Instead of getting out of bed I just lay there knowing that if I get up I’ll have to face the reality of life. I got up anyway knowing I would have to get up sooner or later. The dark wood floors were freezing. I felt like it was winter and I had just got stuck in the snow. I ran over to my drawers and quickly took out one pair of fluffy socks. I put them on at the same rate I took them out and let out a sigh of relief once I was

I set down my computer not knowing what to write about. It was almost time for school and I was exhausted. I looked at the alarm clock it was 6:30 a.m. Just then my mom walked into my bedroom and said, “Time to get up Spencer. It’s the last day of school for you, before we move to Malibu. How long have you been awake?” I thought for a moment. “About an hour, but I can explain. I needed to think of ideas for the book I’m writing.” I said. She looked at me with rage, “Spencer! A growing girl needs a lot of sleep!” I stood up from my desk, and went to my dresser. “I’m going to get dressed,” I said as my mom walked out of the room. I opened my top dresser drawer, and pulled out a white tank top with black polka dots in it. As I put my new shirt

As of now, the day before Christmas and three weeks under the tree, Adam the pocket watch has fallen into one of his states of depression and anxiety. The main thing on his mind is how he has no purpose and how Christmas day will make it even worse. He sits in the corner of the space provided by the tree, making him isolated from the other presents and alone to ponder everything in his own thoughts. Even though being isolated is the last thing that will be beneficial, Adam sits alone unintentionally. The large people placed him there, which made him feel even more alone, worried, terrified, and anxious. The most significant thing Adam needs is hope, but that is one thing that he cannot seem to find. Whenever he grasps for strands of

To begin it all happened in December it was snow falling; freezing cold temperatures, the frigid cold wind was whistling threw the streets. The current day is Friday; every Friday I would go to my grandma’s and I would stay there for the weekend. I stayed with my grandparents on weekends because my mom worked weekends and I also needed someone to babysit me. I would have to