My Mother At Dinner - Original Writing Essay

I sat there in my room with tears flowing down my blush pink cheeks. Wondering what was wrong with me, as a salty tear ran along my dried out chapped lips. I thought to myself,” Why am I so miserable? What did I do to deserve this? How am I going to escape this life?” I started to ponder that this was the end of my life, this is how I was going to be, sorrowful. At the lowest point of my life, mother came barging through the door with the look of cavernous concern on her face. She knew that it was time for something to be done, whether I agreed or not.

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.

One afternoon I was at Mama´s General store buying some provisions and I saw Mama’s little granddaughter Marguerite, who was extremely shy and I had seen her before with her brother when they came to the town. She was quiet, she had been mute for five years after an incident that changed her life.At the age of eight she had been raped by her mother´s boyfriend. Her uncles had killed the man and she had felt responsible for his murder therefore as à result of guilt she went into a mute stage. After I had payed for the provisions, mama had asked me if I need Bailey her oldest grandson to carry my bags, but instead of him, I wanted Marguerite to carry my bags, for a reason. That being said, I wanted to help her break out of her nutshell, and for her to speak again. The moment I saw Marguerite, I knew there was something amazing about her which no other girl had in town. Therefore, I had told mama that I would like Marguerite to carry my bags. Marguerite looked at me as if I was calling her name in a beautiful, tranquil cave that had echoed so softly that It ran so smooth like the wind. Mama and I had exchanged the elderly looks,which Marguerite did not understand by what I had meant, and with mama’s permission it was ok for her to go with me. On the way to my house we had talked about how well she was doing in school but she wasn't talking. She was enticed by the way I was pronouncing her name and would stare at me. She was shocked that I choose her to assist me out of everyone in the town. The walk to my house was overall quiet, she was mute all the way, shy, nervous and was wondering why I chose her to take my bags home with me. I wanted her to know that somebody loved her and that

All I wanted was moments with my mom when I was nine; I did not get it. What about age ten, eleven, and twelve? My whole childhood was snatched out from under me, and I had to grow up way to fast. Don’t worry, I did not blame you. I blamed myself until I was fifteen. It was my fault my mother tried to drown my sisters and me. I saw signs and clues. I could tell she was not acting herself, but I said nothing. I didn’t go and ask another grownup for help. I put my sisters’ lives in danger, because I didn’t protect them.

I haven’t been able to sleep for the past month. I hear my door creak and I look at the door. I see someone open the door very slowly before coming in. I look to see Maria tiptoeing into my room. “What are you doing?” I ask “You know your mom would kill me if she saw us.”

Being in the home was like a separate world, one between life and death. When I reached the outside world again everything seemed so fresh. There were bright yellow-green leaves that hung with an arrogant vivacity, cars that sped by with such fervor, wind blowing with verve and energy, lively children playing with a vivacious lust for life, and the vitality that exudes from the air into your lungs. I wanted to bring this energy into

My mother was out of town, so I knew it was not her. I grew afraid of the strange woman in my house, the maroon-colored walls in my bedroom was giving me an ominous feeling, making my room look stained with blood. I went quietly out of my door and down the hallway, knowing that they were arguing in the kitchen by the volume of their voices. I paused in the middle of the hall, unsure whether to continue or to go back to my bedroom. I only decided on the former after I heard a muffled shout and the woman’s voice laughing. This decision was the biggest mistake of my life.

Although I hated to see her go, I knew that I would never branch out and meet new people with my mother present. As we said goodbye, the tears swelled up in her eyes and it seemed like the harder she tried to prevent the tears from falling; the faster they streamed down her cheek. Eventually my mom got back into her car and began the long trip home. There I was, alone in the middle of the street outside of my dorm. I walked back into Cowden, up the flight of stairs and into my dorm room in a trance.

What can one say about their mother? One may talk about her positive and negative

It was a bone chilling January night; my mom received a call at about 11:15 PM, a call that changed my life forever. My Aunt June was on the other line. She was crying so hard my mother could barely understand her. Through the sobbing my mom finally understood that Brian, my cousin, had been in a horrible accident and she didn’t know how bad it was. My mother jumped out of the bed after she hung up the phone. She screamed up the stairs at my sister and me; it was a nerve shrilling scream. I could hear fear in her voice. My mom was always yelling at us growing up if we forgot to do something. She would even get us out of bed to finish something that wasn’t done completely. This particular

Now I can say that I had never understood others suffering from a bad loss of a dear person.  I would hate to hear that anybody died. When this happened to me, when my dear mother died, I started to understand all those people who lost someone they loved. There are perhaps no proper words to describe this pain, This intolerable pain which tears you apart, which is like a stone on your heart, and which make tears run down your face with each moment spent with the dear person who passed away. Time is unlikely to pass so fast this hurt, no matter what others claim.

At age three I said “I love you mommy.” At age seven I said, “Mom, stop kissing my cheek!” At age fifteen I say, “You’re so annoying – I can’t wait to move out!” At age eighteen, I’ll be saying “I miss home.” At age twenty-seven I’ll be saying “I miss my mom.” At age forty I’ll be saying “I miss you so much; I wish you didn’t have to go.” My mom is the sun to my shine.

I often wondered if my mother would have chosen to immigrate to the United States of America, after repatriating to Holland, to begin a new life from absolutely nothing but the clothes on our backs for the second time, if my parents had stayed together. Was it their divorce that inspired Mom to lead us on our path to prosperity? Eventually I understood that my Mom’s ultimate motivation was her vision of a brighter future for her family, regardless of her marital status. In Holland, Mom could not bare to watch her mother be the sole breadwinner and living off a Dutch government's subsidized income was equally unacceptable. Following Aasje’s death, Evie observed Oma, overcome with grief, lose her spirit, and she aspired for a better life

Any women can be a mother but it takes someone special to be a mother. Having someone in your life who means so much to you is a blessing. My Mom, Fatima was born on June 4, 1973. Moving to her appearance, I could say that the way she acts says a lot about her personality. She is the kind of person that is interesting to listen. Every time I listen to her, I learn something new. The moment she had me in her life was also a blessing for her. Im her third daughter. She is someone who cheers me up while I’m feeling sad. Without her, I wouldn’t be who I am today. Her smile is the only thing that will make me happy throughout the day. Her guiding hand on my shoulder will remain forever. Ever since her childhood, my mom was taught that

A mother is someone who can take the place of all others but no one can take the place of her. There are many different definitions you could use to describe your mother. My mother, Pam Krull, fits every one of those. Today I decided to pick the three that I thought was most important to me. I admire and aspire to be like my mother because of how supportive, how selfless, and how loving she is.