Narrative Essay About My Birthday

The sky was always blue holding sunshine rays in her world. Her name was Rosaline Deponte, my great-grandma. The continuous smile that she showed on her face reminded us how precious life is and to not take things for granted. Cold wood floors that could easily freeze toes, single-walled construction, shut rows of jalousie windows, and the smell of warm sweet bread on the counter 24/7, that was Rosaline’s house.

When I woke up in the morning, my mom had left for work. My dad was singing in the kitchen, banging pots around. I got up, tiptoed down the hall, washed my face. A neatly wrapped present lay on the bathroom counter. It was addressed to me. I stuffed it into my robe pocket, and rushed back down the hall. Under the covers, I opened the package. On the first page of a small, leather notebook, an inscription read: to a writer, love your mother. I never wrote anything in the notebook. I could never think of anything good

To most, the tenth of October means next to nothing. Yet those seldom individuals, which I am referring to as my family, welcomed me into the world as I was born in the small-town of Columbia City. Somewhere around the world, Brett Favre was throwing a party for his 31st birthday (Famous Birthdays). The NFL champion and his family weren’t the only ones celebrating, as my family sat in the hospital, later receiving the news that the youngest child of the Wood family had been born. Along with the great news, great decisions also must be made; the permanent name to give your child for the rest of their life.

This birthday had been wonderful. My friend Emily and I hiked up to a place called Griffith Observatory. I had heard that the view was amazing and you could see all of LA. I walked to a artsy concrete staircase where you could see the lively and bustling city in the background. From our point of view, the skyscraper buildings looked tiny and ant sized. The golden crisp sun had slightly set behind us and caused the sky to shift deep colors throughout the city. When the cotton candy like clouds drifted across the electric baby blue sky, I felt an overwhelming rush of pure happiness. The condensed and shrubby bushes in front of us were a shamrock green color, and looked as if they were full of life. I knew

It was just a normal day in my grade five class doing our work and having fun. Our teacher decided to move onto a subject that involved our birthdays. We were supposed to make a line with our birthdays in order.” September ten! “I shouted. One student was shocked.

Unremarkable in its self since we all have birthdays, yet specifically memorable to me since my predictable weekly pattern changed. That Saturday my father drove my brothers and I to the library instead of my mother. What had been a lifetime pattern of adventure and exploration shard with someone who loved the written word as much as myself had now been pasted to someone who wondered why he was missing an afternoon nap in his recliner. None the less, Mother assured me of his commitment and hurried me along claiming to need every available minute in order to bake my cake and prepare for the

My 2nd birthday. There are silly blues clues decorations everywhere. There are polka dot balloons, sweet yummy cake, and big shiny presents. There is a camera pointed at my face. The faint sound of muffled talking goes through my head. I hear the sweet words of “Happy Birthday” several times. As I open my gifts, I hear the rustling of the slick wrapping paper. My nose picks up the scent of the smoke from the birthday candles.

Even though nothing big happened on the day I was born, my day of birth was actually an interesting event; Cloned pigs help overcome rejection by the human immune system, the number one book was “The Summons” by Grisham, the number one hit that day “Who You Remind Me” by Nickelback, and a mother of a 10-month-old was sent to mental hospital for her child’s gruesome death.

For many, a birthday symbolizes a pleasant occasion. Nevertheless, I find them to simply be another day that stirs up dreadful memories. This feeling transpires on account of one person, a man by the name of Fortunato. In a matter of seconds, he had everything my adolescent-self craved; love and affection. Something perhaps I could never have.

With every passing birthday, you open card that tease you about being over the hill, and this leads to a sense of dread about impending birthdays. You reach an age where sudden you are

Another ignored birthday. Stewart had just turned 15, but nobody had cared anyway. The boy’s parents left the house at 6 A.M, and wouldn’t come back till 11 P.M. Stewart was not restive to celebrate, since there was nobody to celebrate with. Ever since he was a little boy, Stewart would be constantly chastised by his parents, if they were ever home. Whenever his parents tried to spend time with their son, their plans would always be deferred to a later date, until the plans were cancelled. At first, Stewart would be worried about his parents. However, over time, Stewart would desist from worrying, and would encroach his limits one by one. Even after making irrational decisions, and being expelled from school at just 13 years old, and greatly discrediting his parents’ reputation, no changes were made.

The morning sunshine seeped through the cracks between my shutters, lighting up my room. I could hear the clock ticking and the rays of sunlight bouncing off of my eyelids. I barely got any sleep last night because I was ecstatic that tomorrow was, my birthday! I jumped up out of bed, how could I have forgotten that it was my birthday? Suddenly all of my drowsiness turned it into excitement and I jumped up, throwing the red gradient quilt off of my bed. I slowly walked out of my room, making very little noise, checking to see if anyone else was awake. I peeked through the intricate staircase railings and tried to spot anyone downstairs, no one was in sight. I tiptoed down the cream coloured stairs, reached the bottom and got startled when my mom yelled, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”, her voice bouncing off the walls of house. A grin so big spread across my face, I couldn’t believe I was turning four years old!

To this day, I can still remember standing at the end of my driveway watching my mother arrive home from the bus stop. This day was different; she was not coming home empty handed. In fact, she had stopped at a yard sale on the way home and bought a prize for me, a doll named Suzy. This memory, from the age of two, embraces the story of my mother and my entire childhood. In Indianapolis, Indiana in September 1980, I was born to a single mother. Throughout her life, she worked for the phone company in downtown Indianapolis. Even though she raised us through hardships and despair, she always took the time to love my brother and me outwardly. Until second grade, I have no recollection of my father visiting more than three occasions. At last, in fourth grade we began to spend weekends at his house and with his family. Sadly, when I was eleven we learned that my father had cancer. One week before Christmas, after a school music program, I read his obituary in the paper and told my mother he had passed away. From that moment, our family forever changed, specifically my relationship with my mother.

"Happy Birthday", my mom screamed out and scared me the morning of June 9. But it was surprising and nice of her since she wished me before anyone else. It was my eighteen birthday and it was my day. While looking out the big windows in my room, I thought to myself, I will do what satisfies me today, but wasn't quite sure what? I didn’t receive any calls from my friends, or other relatives. Nobody was home either besides my mom with whom I can’t make plans because she got her own work to do. It depressed me because it seemed like this was going to be one boring eighteen birthday.

It is April 4th. It is my 21 birthday.21 years ago I was born and got named Thea. My mom Emily, dad James, sister Maddison, and brother Liam are coming over to celebrate my birthday. There are a few things I must do before they come.