My Memories Of My Life

For the majority of my life, I had been shy, even though it didn’t seem like it most of the time, I was scared to death when I met new people. I know that it sounds extremely trivial, but I feel that when you first meet someone, you’re ultimately giving them their first impression of yourself and that is a lot of pressure. It seemed almost certain that I would lead a life of being a social wallflower until March 2017, more specifically, March 28th, 2017. This day was and still is important to me because I learned how to be confident, and through my experience, it taught me something that I will hold onto forever. Prior to this day, I was an extremely introverted person and rarely went out of my way to make friends. As a volunteer at day

When I was nine years old, I lived in a well-known area in Florida; I lived in a semi-big house that we all called the yellow house. My family called it the yellow house because out of our entire neighborhood we were the only family with a bright yellow house. My family and I had lived in the yellow house for a total of four years, starting from when I was four. The house was a big part of my life because I had watched it being built so I had an emotional attachment with it. During the last year when my family and I lived there, my mom became pregnant with her fifth child. Around the same time my mom and my sisters constantly visited my grandmother up in a small town in Georgia. Up in Georgia my mom had made one friend that lived in the neighborhood so me and my sisters became good friends with his kids.

     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.

My home town, where I grew up at, and where I am at now. These three characters link to the three different houses.

The environment in which I was brought up as a child, played a vital role in my life. Whether the environment being a small city with few hundreds or a large city filled with thousands, my hometown I will always remind me what I have become and how it has shaped myself.

I was 11 when my parents were taken away. I remember vividly what happened that day. It had been a warm and sunny day, my parents had come back from work at the outskirts of ‘The Main’; my father was a farmer and my mother packaged items to send to ‘The Central’. The night was cold, and because my family were ‘brown eyes’ we were treated differently from the others meaning that we couldn’t pay for light or heat. We barely even made enough for a meal once a day. I was sitting at the table eating my soup while my parents were in the kitchen talking. My house was very small, we only had four rooms; the sitting room, the kitchen, the hall, and the bedroom which we had to share. I was almost done with my soup when I heard a loud banging

I remember the day so vividly. My sister and I were watching Teletubbies, when we heard our parents fighting. Screams, and shouts. Bangs and thumps. This was no new discovery though. My sister glanced at me, and saw that I was scared, scared that our family would split apart. She took my hand and held it tightly; she nodded her head giving me self-assurance, as I slowly wiped a tear drifting down my face. I jumped into bed, knowing that the next day might be the worst day possible, but I pulled the sheets over my head, and filled my brain with unicorns, rainbows, teddy bears, and hearts, all happy thoughts. I stayed in bed for the next hour, knowing that my presence would cause more problems to occur. My mom came to the room later that day, and noticed that I was sleeping, so she walked out.

Three different cities. Three different countries. Three different continents. Together, they form three different periods of my life, where I have continually submerged myself in new surroundings, adapting from one situation to the next, all in the hope of seeking new experiences to better my life.

I remember being able to look up at the sun, clear blue skies and large fluffy clouds. Without thinking and second guessing myself, I stated, “ I wish that I could put this sky in my bedroom!”. I remember both my dad and brother looking at me and smiling with laughter. I think that they felt that it was a funny statement and an intelligent statement at the same time. My dad look at me and said, “Mere, well, why can’t you have that sky in your bedroom?” I next thing I knew, my dad had my mom calling our landlord and asking for permission to paint my room. I was blown away with emotions of feeling important and excited. The move to Oregon had put a financial hardship on my family of five. We went from owning our home to Atlanta from renting a fixer upper in the suburb of Portland, Oregon. There was a undertone in my family that children were not supposed to ask for extra things. Gifts and treats were given to children during holiday, birthdays and or after good behavior. Again, I was blown away with every positive feeling that a child could experience in that moment, especially when our landlord said, “yes” to the painting. I remember that my dad, brother and I got into my dad’s 1973 Datsun truck and went to go get paint. By the end of that weekend, I had a light blue painted bedroom, the same as the sky. This is just one example of how I felt significant and loved by the members of my microsystem. My parents had high expectations for all three of their children with behavior and academics. However, I knew that I was loved by both my

When I was three years old my family moved to farmland in Arizona. I lived there with my three older siblings and our parents for nine years. Even today, this place holds a very special place in my heart. The farm was an exciting and wonderful place for four kids to grow up and gave me experiences and taught me many important lessons that I would not have had anywhere else. My siblings and I spent so much time together playing, doing chores, and having adventures together. Because most of my childhood was spent there, I have strong attachments to the emotions and memories of my life growing up there.

I grew up in a small city called Pharr in a neighborhood known as Las Milpas. Las Milpas is known as a violent and poor neighborhood,even though that is not the case. Due to the fact that my mother was a single teenage mother, we were not able to afford a home of our own. We lived in my grandparent’s home, which was my mother’s childhood home. The house consisted of two stories; my mother and I lived in the second floor, and my aunt and uncle lived in the first floor. My father was not involved in my life, but my grandfather was a father figure to me as I was growing up. I was my grandfather’s pride and joy, I was really spoiled by him and my grandmother. Nevertheless, I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful family who made a financially

The first time my mother lived independently, from my grandparents, I was three. We lived with my mom’s sister in a white house at the end of a long dirt road. The house was surrounded by fields of grass and wild flowers. Although my memories of that time are few there was a feeling of overall happiness and wellbeing. My aunt would ride her bike to work every day and my mother and I would run down the road to

There are many different places in my life that mean a lot to me, that have a significance to me. In either their significant from a certain memory or just what they represent to me. Not everyone will understand the importance of these places’ that mean so much to myself. Majority of these places are important not because of that one time, but because of the many times. They are important because of how they played a part in shaping me, who I am today. I have a second home with two grandparents who love me as if I were their own child. I formed a tradition that helps me remind me of what I have, a family that loves me. And I was able to travel to a new country that helped me find my true self and become the strong independent woman that I

I think of my life and memories as an ocean: serene and still or rough and rigid. But in the end it’s always beautiful and breath-taking. Some of my memories warm me up from the inside. But they also tore me apart. Unfortunately, the memories that tore me apart are the best I can remember. My childhood memories, when I look back at them, are filled with resentment and bitterness. The first few memories, I was spent with strangers. Strangers my parents paid to be our care-givers. Some of these strangers were kind and compassionate, some were troubled and negligent. My dad received so much help due to the circumstances in his country. I remember an instance when my community gave us a helping-hand. They helped us fix our trailer and built a

I never quite had the perfect childhood. My friends have memories of playing, laughing, riding bikes, and family road trips. I don 't have any of those memories. My most vivid memories from childhood are of red and blue police lights flashing in my eyes. I also recall memories of smoke and liquor. When I was 8 years old, my mother disappeared. Later I learned that she was dead.