My mother is a very complicated woman. I believe the best way to describe her would be, “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” I know, weird way to start off my literary story, right? As much as I do not like my mother, I love her, and respect her. While I am being honest, I owe my work ethic and a vast majority of my success to her, as much as I hate to admit it. The way she lived her life, most college graduates and the societal hoity toity types would raise their noses to. However,
When my older sisters were still in high school, every morning before school, my mother woke up bright and early, cooked breakfast, curled, straightened, or braided my sister’s and my hair, and drove us to school. After we were at school, my mother went to work, came home and prepared lunch for my dad, folded the laundry, washed the dishes and cleaned the house until it was spotless. Then she picked my sisters and me up from school, whipped up something for dinner, and double-checked if everyone
amounts of separation from my mother, even thou now I can look back and see if was just more then I was use to. Once into high school the separation grew larger, as I got older, her time for her boyfriends grew larger and I was left alone. I experienced a large disconnect with my mother, in which I spent more time living with my friends parents then I did my own. Also going back to throughout my junior high years a medical condition for numerous years that had gone undiagnosed and it created large
If you knew me, you would know that for the longest time i never understood why my biological father left me. I never understood the struggle my mom went through as a single mother. I never understood what it felt like to be alone, but my mom did. My mother is a beautiful, wise, fire-cracker of a lady but can also be one of the sweetest, and all around most compassionate being to everything and everyone in her life. But I never thought why. Before I was conceived, given birth to, and grown into
When I was 5 I realized I would always have a temporary home, moving from place to place. My mother was always heavily induced with drugs and alcohol, never knowing my dad, unfortunately, I felt as if I was one big mistake on this earth. I watched my mother go from guy to guy, then one day she met Scott who told her everything she wanted to hear. One morning I watched mother slip on a long white flowy dress, dab some perfume on her neck that smelt like the daises I picked as a child, and we were
fearful by the minute. As I walked into the night, I wondered what my mother would say. I broke curfew, again. And my mother is as strict as an Asian parent can get. I could never understand her overprotective nature. It had grown extreme to the point where I couldn’t enjoy the little things in life. As frustrated as I was, my mother wasn’t always overprotective to this extent though. She grew extremely weary a few years ago when my father and brother both died of brain tumors within the span of a
about my mother. Her name is Nita. As much as i like her i like her name too. If there is reason that i do not like her that would be she name me kunjan. Love and mom both are same words for me. She guides me in good ways every single day. She cares smallest things that related me and she always worry about me and my older brother TAPAN. Everyone in the world has someone who means alot to them. For me the most important person of my life is my mom. When we were in india my dad and
Going to visit my mother and spending time with my boys is just what I needed. I loved spending time with my family. Now my step-father on the other hand irked my soul. My mother wasn 't always the best parent to live with which is the reason I lived with my grandmother. My mother at one time was a addict to not only drugs but alcohol. She met her husband right here in Kansas when was I was just thirteen years of age. He was just recently divorced from his wife and he was also a junkie and a drug
Literacy has always been close to my identity as a person. My mother wanted the best for her children, and therefore would sing and read to us as soon as we were born. She encouraged out love of words and books by taking us to the library for reading time and always seemed to find the most amazing books for us to explore. My mother is very musically gifted, so songs were part of our daily routine. There are still little songs that pop into my head about daily tasks that she created to help us
My Life I was born February 8th, 1998, in Lisbon, Portugal. I lived in a very pretty beach town my whole life called Ericeira. My mom, Maria, was born in Cuba, and she currently works as a translator for Neogen. Because she spoke in Spanish to us almost every day, me and my sister learned to understand and speak a little bit as well. My dad, Antonio, owns a dairy farm in Portugal and also fixes computers as a hobby. I have one little sister and two half sisters. My little sister’s name is Patricia