My Memories - Original Writing

Seven years earlier, I migrated to Hawaii when I was twenty-three. I had flown away from my mother and my life in the Philippines. Like young adults and being rebellious, I wanted to live on my own away from my mother 's roof. I left the city life I grew up with in the Philippines in hope of a better life in another country.

A usual morning started with my mom saying, “My little sun, get up! It’s time to do great things!” When I finally opened my eyes, I saw that beautiful face in the lights of the sun. A lady, who always entranced me with her beautiful smile and clear green eyes, was unusually nervous. I stood up from my bed, and the next thing I noticed was beautiful black uniform on my chair. Having an idea to what that uniform would lead, I decided to pretend there was nothing to worry about. My mom said she was going to make a breakfast for me, so she went out of my room. It seemed to be a usual morning, but everything was unusual. A few minutes later I decided that my breakfast must be 100% ready. Walking down stairs of our huge house, I saw my parents quietly

I couldn 't believe what had just happened. I kept running, breathing out of control. My feet were sore and my lungs were aching. Tree branches were scraping my arms as I ran past them. Urging myself to keep on going. It was too late to look back now. I was running for my freedom and nothing was going to stop me. Not the sharp twigs stabbing at my feet as I ran or the misty fog blocking my clear path ahead. Nothing. It was really going to happen. All I needed to do was make it through the trees and onto a road. I couldn 't give up no matter what.

As a bubbly, inquisitive child, life always seemed to be on a schedule. I just did what I was supposed to do. I got good grades, played sports with my friends and didn’t question anything. EHH EHH EHH, the alarm clock went off, it was Saturday morning and I smelt the aroma of my mom’s home-made pancakes with bacon. I threw my sheets off my half-asleep body, rubbed my eyes and started shuffling to the kitchen. It was a brisk and chilly morning; I had my pink Bratz robe and Stompie slippers on while eating breakfast with my brother and sister. My mom looked at the clock and it was fifteen minutes past eight. I had a church basketball game at 9:30, so I finished my breakfast and put my basketball gear on. Then I got in the car and my family and I start our Saturday morning routine.

I got out of bed and threw on the clothes I had set out the night before. I made my bed, brushed my teeth, did my hair. It was just like any other day. I ran to the kitchen where i met my half asleep brother. He was bragging that he didn't have to go to school and i did. I wasn't hungry, but i forced myself to eat a waffle before the school bus got to our house. As the garage door raddled open, a bright stream of sunlight hit my face. The sound of the birds chirping and cars driving by greeted me as i waited outside. The ground was wet from a summer morning dew. Except, it wasn't summer anymore. In the corner of my eye, I see a long yellow school bus coming around the block. Its brakes screech and the doors fling open. I climb on board, only to realise that i am one of the first people on. I find a seat and sit back in a comfy position. After a few stops, I hear some familiar voices. We talk about our worries and concerns for a while but then we arrive.

A sudden ring from my phone sounding like a marimba song awakened me. As I tried to open my eyes from a peaceful sleep, I reached for my phone that felt miles away. Once I grabbed my phone I stopped my alarm and I saw the time, realizing what day it was. I got up, looked out the window staring at a glowing gold round shape beginning to shine into the morning sky. I walked over to my makeup counter preparing myself for a day I'll always remember. Finishing my typical makeup routine, I started on my hair. In the process of running down my flat iron onto my long dark hair, I began to think of the day I had ahead of me. I grabbed my outfit from my dresser that I put together the night before. I ripped off the price tags of a sleeveless olive lace shirt and denim dark washed ripped skinny jeans. Pairing my outfit with American brand boat shoes with black leather and mesh panels on the side. A rich, buttery smell escaped into the air reaching my nostrils and making my mouth water, along with sizzling sound in the background. I rushed into the kitchen to find my dad making fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs, and crispy bacon. Minutes later, my mom shouted to my sister and I “time for the first day of school picture.” At that moment I realized I was minutes away from my first day of high school.

When you hear “home,” what do you think about? A perfect little cottage on the hillside, or a dream beach house with the waves crashing in the distance? The house you dream to own when you 're older. The little farm in the middle of nowhere, or the sturdy home in the Rocky Mountains surrounded with the perfectly green trees. Or do you think of your home, the little place you grew up, playing around with siblings, where you loved, laughed,and maybe had a fight now and then. The place that smells of fresh laundry and baked good during the holidays. Where you made the best memories of your childhood, with you imagination with friends, and family? For me, I think of the stone house with the long driveway, trees all way down the curvy road. The smell of evergreens, and freshly mowed lawns. A bit of fresh pulled dirt on the sidewalk from pulling the weeds in the flower bed.

Everyone’s had a bad day before, whether that be because they’re going through a breakup, a relative died, or life just seems to be going against them. In these circumstances it’s practically necessary to have a safe place to go to. These places can range from a bedroom to a church to a therapist’s office. Mine is a little bit different from others and it’s a little place called Schumerth.

I awoke to find myself being tortured by sharp pains forming all across my body, as thoughts of panic rambled through my mind. I anxiously looked around the bare room, illuminated by a single row of light bulbs. My heart began to beat rapidly as I tried to find any object that would spark my remembrance of my location.

I wake up to the sound of the front door closing ‘ just another day’ I tried to tell myself. As I shifted in my bed my eyes had begun to close shut again, stunned by the bright sunlight piercing through the curtains. Rubbing my eyes happened to be the natural thing to do when relieving them from the radiant sunlight. Lazily I looked to my left and the picture of my mother caught my attention, as it did everyday. Not only did I miss my mother but the picture had been a token of my innocence and a reminder of my ignorance; I guess that is why it motivates me to do what I do. Heaven forbid a few tears would escape my eyes I knew she wouldn’t want me to be like this. It was hard to believe it has been four years since her passing I just wish

I gently crept out of my bedroom and tiptoed past my parents’, to make sure they were asleep. Satisfied with hearing two sets of snoring, I scuttled backwards and shut my door quietly. My heart was already racing. I could hear my pulse pounding in my head. Quietly as possible, I pulled my jeans and boots on and slid my window open. That alone probably took two whole minutes. The window was squeaky unless you slid it up just right.

I made him proud. It wasn’t the type of proud where you bring home a good grade; no, it was more of an awe type of proud. It was a challenge to make him proud due to my ambiance, and the people who occupied it. If I told you I had a bad childhood, I wouldn’t only be lying but simply undermining my pride that I developed growing up there. I was constructed in paradise, and by paradise I mean the place you fantasize about vacationing every spring break. 26 miles long, and exactly 6 miles to be exact. Overcoming obstacles came with two factors, me being the only girl in the family, and the idea that my family pursued, which was boys did the better things like, fishing. My paradise may have been limited, but it implemented the principles that I apply to my everyday life and shaped me into the young girl I am today.

I have never been more scared in my entire life. I’ve seen it in movies but it’s never happened in real life. I can actually see it with my own eyes. We all saw it and we even have evidence.

If there was one word to describe me in middle school it was “tomboy.” Although I was in dance class and cheered, I loved playing sports. I enjoyed getting rough and rowdy in the backyard with my brother and being the only girl in the neighborhood that the boys let on their team during pick-up games. However, my girlfriends would often comment, “Emily, you’ll never be cool by playing sports,” and “Beating the boys will never make you popular or get you a boyfriend.” At the time their comments didn’t matter. It was what I enjoyed doing. Then came high school and all of a sudden it was clear I had two options. I could listen to my friends and tried to become one of the cool girls and just cheer, or I could continue to pursue my

I wake up thinking I am in our old house in the countryside. The sun streams through the window across the rolling hills, and a calm wind blows on my face. Soon the day will begin . . . another long day of weaving cloth.