Narrow-Personal Narrative

It's a Friday afternoon, I plan to go to Great Wolf Lodge in an hour with my church. I see one of my friends so he says to his mom “ Hey, that's my friend” I said “Crap” So I go inside to sign in to go and see my friends just sitting in a corner on a big sofa. We are listening to music and just talking then a green bus comes.

I have lived in only one location my entire life: Edwardsville, Illinois. A peripheral suburb of St. Louis, it stands as the rare oasis of people in a desert of corn, pinned in its own personal bubble. Due to this blend of time and isolation, I developed a natural familiarity with my hometown. But, throughout my childhood, I longed to break free from the confines of the bubble and venture outward. However, this changed last summer, as I walked through Richards Brickyard, our family heirloom, that my great-grandfather, Benjamin Richards, founded over 120 years ago. I felt these childlike sentiments slip away. The bubble that had surrounded me for so long began to vanish, and the picture that it had been obscuring was slowly revealed.

It is true in life that everything happens for a reason. It is also true to say that sometimes it is all about being in the right place, at the right time. There was never a more prominent example of this than a traumatic summers evening, only a few years ago.

That was a lot of money, and I didnt want to let Tony down so I got in the car and started to drive. As I drove the road was empty. I had confidence I was not going o get caught. It was a slightly wormer day out witch might have been because the sun was out. I had the windows down and was blaring music just trying to enjoy life when a cop pulls out behind me.

It's been an interesting year so far, and it looks like it is about to get even more interesting (more about that in a moment). What I wanted to write about in this here journal of mine is a new brand of shoe that I just purchased; they are called Nike running shoes, and I love them. They fit well, are comfortable and seem like they will last quite a while. I just had to have a pair (I think I'm the first one here at school to have them most of the other students have never even heard of them; Neanderthals, I know!). I predict they will be a big hit in the future. Okay, enough about shoes, let's move on to more serious matters, my love life! (just joking journal I have no love life right now). Oh well, I haven't written in here for the past few weeks, I guess I better talk about the events of the month. Let's see, it's October 1962 and a number of events have taken place; some here at the University of Mississippi, some in the United States and some internationally. Many of these events will likely have long-term impact on some very serious matters. Of course, I did not think any event would foreshadow James Meredith being admitted into the University, but, the first Negro being admitted into a higher education institution is an event that has only national implications, while the missile crisis in Cuba, could lead to death to thousands or even hundreds of thousands of citizens in both the United States and in Russia.

It takes a village to raise a child, and that is the atmosphere that I was raised in. My grandparents' house is open to anyone who needs a home. As a child I lived with my mom, cousins, aunts, uncles, great uncle, and great grandma. I was always entertained and learning. My family taught me how to write in cursive and how to count, but they also taught me life lessons that I will never forget.

The most important game of the year was coming up and I was ready. Everything was going perfect for me, because I was the starting QB as a freshmen at Englert High School. We were playing Joston High School the number 1 team in the nation since 1960, it was going to be a tough game because they had the number 1 ranked defense, but we had the best offense. The day before the game was just a normal day I went to school and had football practice after school. A couple weeks ago one of the other teams that we had played earlier in the year wanted another game so we decided to play them. They had been the hardest team we had played all year, we had only beat them by a last efforts field goal it hardly went in as it bounced in off the crossbar.

It was a peaceful day in a crummy condo. My brother and I were sitting in his room. I had AP Social Studies homework and he had 7th grade English. He was in the middle of asking me a question when a gust of wind came through the closed window. I kind of, how do I put this, a noise. A very dim, subtle noise. A ZING, SWOOSH, SHUUWAH noise. And out popped two people. A man and a woman. They looked at us in a passive, easygoing way, and the women said to us in a soft, calm voice, “We are your parents. And want to take you home”.

I violently shiver as I stand near the stop sign, awaiting my morning bus. My stomach, which had been growling furiously since the afternoon before, is now quiet underneath the layers of jumpers I am casually wearing in sunny, 65 degree weather. Fingers trembling, I plug in the food I plan to eat later on in the day into my calorie counter app, my breath hitching as I realize that today is the start of a new life- a life towards recovery.

The bright white screen fills the room as I hold the remote up to the TV. I flick continuously through the channels, hoping something will take my fancy. I pause on a breaking news story. The voice of a woman fills the air as she explains. ‘A runaway escapee and murderer last seen heading towards the South end of Australia has disappeared. Anyone in the areas of’, I reach for the off button as the mumbles of voices drown out as the TV turns off. I put the remote down and shut my eyes. The dark patterns and swirls fill the darkness as I fill my mind with the endless possibilities from some of the deepest parts of my mind. I replay the series of my day over and over in my head. Replacing the mistakes in the day and presenting myself with what

I do not belong to an American lineage. I originate from the beautiful country of Nigeria, in West Africa. My grandfather once told me a special enlightening statement that I will never overlook. “Life without knowledge of one’s roots is useless. Once you truly begin to learn and experience your roots, your perception of life fluctuates.” Nigeria is the home of over 500 languages. My grandfather can speak and comprehend English, French and my tribal language Yoruba. 10 years ago, my family held a reunion in Nigeria. Every individual family member there communicated by speaking in French and Yoruba, however, I stood there bewildered.

Katherine decided she did not like not knowing where her daughter was, night after night. She could be out getting in trouble. Knowing that any time now, Melanie could come crawling back to me expecting me to raise another, unwanted child. That would be the last thing she would to do. Becoming more annoyed the more she thought about the inconsiderate manner in which Melanie had up and left her. The dishes had not even been washed since Melanie left for work at nine, Saturday morning. Here it is ten o'clock on Monday night. Going back to the apartment simply to check and see if Melanie had bothered to show up and do her job, she now knew the answer.

I remember when I was a little girl so innocent and carefree, everything was just so enjoyable. going to the lake the smell of the fresh clean air, the sight of clear flowing water and the laughter of my sisters and I. I was the youngest of three sisters (no brothers). my sisters always protected me and always showed me how much they loved me. well we all grow up as a child you have no worries and no clue of the realities of life ahead until we are "Grown" .

One beautiful, sunny day, I was riding my bike in the backyard of my house. The supporting wheels of my bike made a pitiful noise. So I wanted to ride my bike without supporting wheels for two reasons. The first reason was off course that the supporting wheels made a terrible noise. The other reason was that all my friends could ride their bikes without supporting wheels.

Teaching school is always an adventure. One of my favorite quotes comes from Phil Collins, “In learning you will teach, and in teaching you will learn.” Twice this past week this quote applied to me.