My Memories Of My Life

A few days in the marina, savoring the last little bits of our time in Florida, ended abruptly with an early morning trip to the airport in the dark. With spring break coming up and missing grandbabies, not to mention kids, we planned to fly back up north for a visit. We had to wear long pants and carry coats because we knew it’d be cold in Maryland. Ohhh…the horror of it.

I was ready and confident to be on the road with the other cars, next week I was going to start get on the road. My first day on the road was a Tuesday I was nervous but ready. I did good for my first time driving on the road, need a lot more practice though. I hate my dad yelling at me when I drive sometime but I didn’t mind cause I know he a good driver. He drive big trucks for this company Cheney Brothers. I had 2 weeks of hell “lol”, nahhh just playing. I drove my dad every where every day I can from football practice or church but I did not get on that highway though to scary. One day I'm going to get on that highway one

I couldn’t hear anything, see anything or feel anything it’s like I was asleep. I can’t remember what it felt like colliding with the go-kart. Probably within a few more seconds my eyes slowly opened and I woke up to my body sliding across the semi-loose gravel/asphalt road. I was able to get up and then a copious amount of swear words were overflowing out of my mouth as I screamed in pain and mostly fear of what had just occurred. My bike was scraped up, and was out of alignment, my hand had been cut up and small stones were lodged in my palms. My face was ripped up and bloody. As far as Connor, the one who caused the accident well he had remained unharmed. With my anger I had managed to get back on my bike and ride to Marshall’s house. As I was cleaning up and bandaging myself up all over Kevin had divulged that he had witnessed everything. He saw my front tire get stopped on the go-kart and watched my body thrown over the handlebars and then nose-diving onto

I have some extremely strong feeling, trying to reflect back to my earliest childhood memory of my life, my first version was describing the setting that of my father hitting my mother over the head with something. Now, I know it was a gun. She was lying in a pool of blood in front of the fireplace with, me by her side trying to wait her up, then going outside crying so my, grandmother could hear me. There were so many scary moments in my childhood. I, can remember as a child, my father and brother falling in a lake of water with my mother screaming and helping them to get out, our house catching on fire with my mother and me along with three of my siblings trying to get out with her telling us to hold on to her and don’t let go. Which my father was no there to be found. Later we learned that he was drinking with his friend up the street under a tree. I was told a few neighbors came to help. Then we stay with my grandparents which I love. Because I love waiting for my granddad to come home from work so he, could take me to get vanilla ice cream. After moving to Cincinnati, Ohio at the age of six from Alabama. My father continues to be very abuses to my mother for fourteen years of their marriage. Thank God she’s still alive today.

I pushed open the door, and grabbed my brothers’ hand, as I held him beside the car. I couldn't feel anything, my body felt completely numb. More cars started to pull over, and people started to climb out and call 911. Staring through the shattered windshield, I saw my mother's blood covered face.

Initially; when I became aware of my surroundings, the driver of the other car was at my side asking if we were okay. My friend was screaming, her face was covered in blood. The rearview mirror was missing, windshield and driver side window shattered and

Then my dad said back," And now do you appreciate the driving we do when we drive for

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.

So finally we reach my grandma’s house after a nine hour car ride with two slobbery dogs, two grouchy teens, and one fed up aunt. When we got out of the car there were millions of endless hugs and kisses, and you can’t forget about the “How are you? I missed you so much”es. But I’ve been sweating like a pig for way too any hours and all I could think about was how cold that pool would be when I plop into it. After cooling down we had family time and managed to stay up till the crack of dawn late instead of taking our behinds to bed. The next day my New York family flew down, but they were way too tired to take on the adventures the next day would bring us.

The sudden deceleration blunt force I had to endure upon impact my whole body took a violent jolt sideways and backward I could feel my muscles and ligaments in my body being stretched and twisted beyond my natural limits and even though I was wearing my seat belt , the force of impact slammed my head int the drivers side window. I lost consciousness for a few seconds. Someone called 911 , I can not remember much after that , my head was

In my eighteen years of my life, this summer has surely been the most memorable. It was filled with countless wonderful memories during these past three months. This summer was filled with loads of amusement, excitement, nerves, and sadness. Summer started one week early, however, other than that it was to an extent, the same as the other summers. I spent a vast deal of my time working, with my friends and family, and in the gym.

One day, I was coming to RVCC from my home. I left my home at 6:15am because I had a class at 7:00 am. The weather was foggy and it was raining so much that morning. I was heading toward north to exit 14B. Exit 14B is on the right side if you come from south. So I moved from middle lane to express lane. As I was about to take the exit, one brand new Mercedes- Benz came from all the way left lane to express lane without showing the side light plus he was speeding. He tried to get in front of my car and it hit the passenger side of my car with great force. Since it was raining, my car skidded and hit the side railing of the road, I got really scared and my car’s driver side door was fully damaged and also my left side. Also the car coming behind me tried to pull the break, and he was able to control his car so. I and that guy, who was driving Mercedes- Benz we both stood on the 287, right at the exit. Because there was no other place we can go. I was sitting in the car, for the first 10 minutes, I was so terrified, I felt paralyzed. I did not know what happen, I was breathing very fast because I felt like I was choking. I was crying and all the emotions are just shooting on me. Because this is the first time I have been in the accident, I called the cops and I was more terrified from cops. I did not know, what will cop do and whose fault that would be? I did not know at the time that I was experiencing the biological and physiological underpinnings of trauma.

He humming along to “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” while the car sweeps over the worn pavement with damp patches glinting from the sunlight. I shift in the driver’s seat, leaning back into the lumbar support as I look out at the path ahead and relax to the music. He helped me understand his past so I could, in turn, help bring his attention from the present to the future; I merely had to wait for the rain and clouded uncertainty to pass so I could redraw the road back to my

When I got off the bus, I noticed my dad’s car in the driveway, again. He had been working from home for the past couple of days after his office got moved from an hour away, all

“All you have to do is keep driving, Stephanie. I don’t know what else to tell you,” my mother sputtered to me. “Just keep driving. All we have to do is get home,” my mother continued, uncertainty and nervousness resonating from her voice, as our rickety and rusted 1997 Toyota Corolla screeched to a halt at the traffic light that loomed red overhead. The engine was rumbling causing the entire car to shake. I sat anxiously behind the wheel and peered out of the corner of my eye only to catch my mother swaying slightly back and forth to the movement of the malfunctioning motor.