Why Am I Thankful For Essay

When the turkey made impact, the laughter of the jokester, my cousin Eric, became anger. His hand smashed into the mashed potatoes with gravy. For a single moment before the he opened his hand to let the blob of mashed potatoes and dripping gravy fly across the table. His hand opened and the blob flew and crashed into Josh’s face, my brother, who was sitting next to Carrie. He also became enraged and picked up his whole plate and jolted it forwards flinging all the food onto my cousins, both age 4, and me. The rest is a kind of blur and not just because soon after I had green bean casserole in my face. The next thing I remember is Michael, the cousin sitting next to me, untouched by all the food somehow, had a microscopic strip of turkey in his glass of Coke. “MOMMY!” He had screamed. The whole house felt as if it had been moved from the foundation because of the screech. Gam Gam, grandma, rushed into the room. Her jaw dropped through the floor as Eric and Josh bolted. Pa Paw, not far behind Gam Gam, snatched both of them. “Now who did this?” Gam Gam said as nicely as a woman who was ready to strangle someone could. The rest of the time we spend not playing soccer, football, or basketball, but cleaning and scrubbing the room that we never thought would loose its

As I looked up, the sky was dark the sidewalk illuminated by the streetlights. The sound of crickets and cars echoing through my ears. I walked home that night, tears in my eyes. I was leaving, I couldn’t handle it anymore. The meds, doctors, psychiatrists nothing was working, our lives were in constant danger. By the time I got home the car was gone. By the time, I finished packing it was dawn. The sun creeping in through the shutters. For the next couple of days, I crashed at Jason’s before I headed South. I heard my cell ringing, it was mom… I let it go to voicemail.

I walked silently, my converse crunching on the wet sidewalk. I zipped up my jacket and took a sip of my coffee. I slowly walked towards my school when someone's shoulder slammed in to me. My coffee flew out of my hands, the lid came of as it hit the ground, spilling all over the sidewalk. I stumbled as I tried to regain my balance. I hate this small town I thought to myself. When I returned home I arrived to both of my parents sitting at the table. I looked at them with a confused look, “Ava why don't you take a seat,” Father said “we have something to tell you.” I took a seat not saying a word just giving them a confused look. “Ava honey your father got a promotion,” Mother stated “and we are going to be moving to California!” Fireworks were going off in my head thinking of all of the new things I would get to experience.

We meet up with some of our neighbors inside, then I thought to myself, this isn't going to be as bad as I expected. As I looked around I saw three bright blonds and realized that it was Kelly Righter and her siblings who lived up the street. Once we signed in we traveled down a few hallways. The people that worked at the veterans hospital said we have to split into two groups. Our family stayed together and we were with the righters. We

“AHHH!” I screeched. My voice echoed and I crumpled to the floor. As I lay on the ground, a smell seemed to enter and toxicate the air. I didn’t run, I didn’t fight the urge to fall asleep, I didn’t care if I died right there and then. In my mind I had already died, and my spirit was still back in bed dreaming of nothing important. I was just a body, a body waiting to meet the horror of this white prison. As I lay crying and beginning to holsinate another wave of white washed over me.

Inside the county jail, the officers looked at me with disgust and distrust. Then proceeded to tell me that “the colored entrance is in the back”. So I exited the jail, my face burning in embarrassment. I don’t know what I had expected. Walking around the jail, I came to the colored entrance where I was greeted kindly by the elderly African-American man who let me inside, and lead me to where Rosa was being held. He let me inside her cell, and I took my place in the chair across from her at the small and dingy table.

It was Thanksgiving dinner all the kids were outside playing” over here over here! “ roared the kids while all the adults were conversing. We were all having a marvelous time then suddenly that’s when it occurred.We all went inside to the strong aroma of smoke. We entered the kitchen to find that the turkey was burning ” quick somebody get the turkey!” yelled Aunt Marge . Mom quickly rushed to get the turkey out,but when she opened the oven nothing but smoke poured out. She took out the turkey but we all knew there was nothing that could be done. It was burnt to a crisp, it was smoking like a chimney .So it was all thanks to the leftover ham in the fridge that we had Thanksgiving dinner. But even though dinner was ruined we all had a good

She realized she was in a slavery camp, owned by the Japanese soldiers. Soon-Young desperately dropped herself onto the icy, cold floor. Not even a hint of hope could be seen in the room. The girls looked sick- their skin seemed to lose its original color. Bones and veins were faintly visible on their ghost white skin.

Halfway through every year we are expected to go on an excursion. This year’s excursion was to Mangalo Prison. Mangalo prison was famous in our town as people believed criminals left there evil spirits behind in there, that and the fact it was nearly a hundred years old was the only reason why it still existed. Finding a seat on the school bus was like a hierarchy, you know, popular people at the back, nerds at the front and then there’s the loser who sits next to the bus driver. I didn’t mind sitting next to the bus driver, I suppose after seven years you get to know the guy. It was a lot easier to talk to Steve that trip because unlike the usual chaotic yelling, everyone was listening to Jimmy Dunning’s Mangalo Prison ghost stories. As much as I disliked Jimmy and his strange desire to flush my head down toilets, his stories were actually terrifying. The town of Mangalo was like those deserted towns you see in movies where the only thing moving is a tumble weed. It wasn’t hard to spot the jail as the houses were the size of tents. We were escorted through the jail by a rugged looking man who looked as though he once called the place home. Once the tour was over we were free to explore and wonder the jail ourselves. When I was quietly examining rude graffiti on a jail cell, I felt the most concussive feeling of my neck being jarred as I was shoved from behind into a cell wall. How I got from being pressed up against the wall to my head stuck

Megan looked at me, we had both finished our food. “Let’s go home.” I say, and she nods. We walk out to her car, and drive back to Ruddy Duck Farm. We walk up to the house, and we see my parents, and Megan’s standing inside with a variety of expressions stuck on their face. Shocked. Sad. Some are crying. “Mom? Dad?” I say, confused. “What’s going on?” My mom is too hysterical to answer. My dad silently hands me a letter, and as soon as i read it my heart and everything else sinks. Eric had been murdered. Not just by anyone, but by Mr Fraser. No wonder I had such a bad feeling today. Mr Fraser had escaped, and since he couldn't come back here to get revenge, he went to Toronto to find Eric. He had murdered him. I couldn't find the words, or the actions. My brother and best friend. Someone I had known for so long gone forever. Half of me didn't believe it, half of me would do anything for one second of time with him.

We stayed still every single minute trying not to do a single screeching sound. It’s 1:00 in the morning, I haven’t gotten any sleep at all trying to see if any minute now the Nazi’s would come through the door. A few minutes later I heard startled screaming. Some woman, could be heard terrified trying not to get shot with the guns. wham! The Nazi’s forced the door opened which made me almost want to scream. Joseph even fell from his sitting position in which he was sleeping. The Nazi’s could be heard through the whole room. Boom Boom Boom! The boots of the Nazi’s could be heard close. I felt my heart

Everything was dark, Christopher was nowhere to be found. I was alone my biggest fear came to life as I looked at it in the mirror. In my hand I held a handful of painkillers in my hand with cough syrup. “HELP, I CAN'T BREATHE” I yelled, it was official, no one was there for me. I was on my own with no way out. Standing in my own puddle of blood from my stabbed back my fear became a reality. Where’s my manners, my name Aisha and this is my story about betrayal. It all started thanksgiving dinner, oh I was in awe to see my family. It's been nearly 5 years since we sat at a table all together, but we had been reasons. The last we saw one another was at my sister's faith funeral, she killed herself from depression. “Okay the table is set ”, my

“Please, can we just stop to eat? We haven’t eaten all day, we can’t take this anymore. Please, just something cheap, we left to go live down here with aunt, and gave up everything, can you just do something for us?” I begged. My mother simply stared at me, but not angrily as I expected. She looked sorry, as if she knew our pain all along and just couldn’t help us. Without saying a word, she made a U turn, and headed back into the center of town. We rolled down main street slowly, scanning the area for some sort of diner, where we could get our breakfast that we never had this morning. My younger sister spotted the place. It was so small, it looked as though it couldn’t have fit more than three tables. The red worn down paint matched the rundown feeling of the whole town. There is a very high population here, but I can’t tell why. It is so small, and so crummy. Anyway, my mother parked the car on the side of the carless road surrounded by the peopleless sidewalks. We walked in through the door

I dreaded coming home, it was the worst thing I could imagine and as i grew the feeling didn’t change. I would get out of bed quietly not wanting to wake up my mother, my bruises are still healing from yesterday’s beatings. I go to my closet and put on a black, long-sleeved shirt to cover up the scars, a pair of jeans to cover the hurt and a pair of hand-me-down sneakers. I quickly tip-toe past my mom’s room, only to see her lying there, sound asleep with an empty wine glass slowly slipping out of her hand. I grab my book bag and walk out the door and to the bus stop. I walked through the hallways, to each class and I hear the nasty comments and the rumors, secretly believing every word they say. I walked to lunch a sit alone as people pull

If there were only one article allowed on this site, it would contain quotes about gratitude. The power of gratitude is something that I've always known on a low-key level but just started to really understand in the past 10 years and really started to be passionate about in the past year. I truly believe that feeling and expressing gratitude is something everyone should be doing to improve their mind, body, and spirit. It's free. It's available to everyone. And it can impact your life is so many ways. Following are some quotes about gratitude that make it clear how awesome it is.