Personal Experience: Moving On

In “A Journey Taken with my Son,” Myrna Bein explains the difficult truths she has endured since Charles, her son, returned home from Iraq injured. Charles is only twenty-six years old, and his mother understands the difficulties he will undergo in the future. Charles lost

“There was music from my neighbor's house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and he champagne and the stars. At high tide in the afternoon I watched his guests diving from the tower of his raft, or taking the sun on the hot sand of his beach while his motor-boats slid the waters of the Sound, drawing aquaplanes over cataracts of foam. On week-ends his Rolls-Royce became an omnibus, bearing parties to and from the city between nine in the morning and long past midnight, while his station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to meet all trains. And on Mondays eight servants, including an extra gardener, toiled all day with

The city always seemed to push the stars farther away from the world in the dead of night. Rain had begun to sprinkle downtown and it began to trickle across the top of the parked cars in the street. Vernon was sitting there silently listening to the drizzle outside that sounded like pebbles falling on a tin roof, still thinking about the dreams his been having. The Coffee Cup was like any other diner nestled between apartments and liquor stores. There was seven cut-up stools and behind them against the wall sat a cigarette machine and no smoking sign. The counter was worn from years of service. Two booths sat facing the storefront windows

One of my personal experiences that I had was when my family decided to move from New Jersey to Florida. I never planned on moving with them but my mother basically forced me into moving with them. It wasn’t really all that moving stuff because the new house was actually pretty nice, it was just I had all my friends there and I was doing well in school. Nothing I said convinced my mother so after a week of packing we was off to Florida. The first week being there was a horrible week. Nothing was going right for me, I missed the school bus for a whole week, dropped my milk on my new shoes, and tripped over nothing in lunch. It was just trying to move back but parents always have this life lesson speech about trying to make new friends and try to get used to being here until we move again. It’s been about a month since we moved to Florida and I met about zero friends but I got used to living here since I’ve found something that interested me as an after school hobby and that was fishing. There’s barley any lakes or ponds in New Jersey so fishing wasn’t really something you do as a time waster. I usually fished right after I got home but on that day it was rainy and it wasn’t really a good time to fish so I just decided to practice my free shots until it started raining hard. I think I was outside for about 20minutes and suddenly a couple kids from my new school asked if they can shoot

So now I deserve to hear your story.” “Okay,” he said, “I just turned “24” three weeks ago.” “Cool,” she interrupted, “go on.” “I found out i got this job last week and was told to come into work today, that I already would know what to do, but I have no idea what I’m doing this job was a favor from my old boss. He was with me when I lost this bad boy.” He was showing his prosthetic leg, and said, “I lost it in an accident.” “Oh really must have been an accident then to have lost your leg.” She said with a face that seemed slightly weirded out. He told her the story about how he lost it trying to keep the truck from rolling off the hill and how the electric co-op paid his bills and him the rest of his salary for the year then gave him the job he currently has now, and her response was. “Wow you are kind-of amazing, but you never told me how you actually came to work for the co-op in the first place.” Then he said, “well to be honest I guess it is because I really liked electrical classes in school.” he was interrupted by the waiter bringing their

As we arrived at the hospital, they said we are going to move you to a wheelchair to get inside and to our room. We had room number two-hundred- in one. We waited for the nurse to come with my file and to take a look. (knock, knock) Finally, I say to

There are so many acts of sacrifice, heroism, compassion and courage, unity and fierce determination. These examples are particularly important to our children. I feel as though children reflect the values they see in their parents, and in their heroes. In most recent years our

My father’s love for his family and his bravery to protect it, made him our hero and there are memorials, which continually remind his family of the sacrifices made by him.

At the nurses’ station she announces to everyone sitting there, “The patient in 420, Adam Rudd, has an attitude, he was very rude to me, did not answer my questions and he was complaining about our hospital and bed. He is 78 years old, no wonder he behaves like this”. The charge nurse sitting at the nurses’ station supports Philly and says, “I know, I also felt the same when I went for my morning meet and greet with the patients. What can we say, old people are grumpy..”

The rays of cold sun escaping through the translucent clouds below resembled the clear, peacefulness below me, clearing the freshly fallen heaps of snow. After weeks of both kindness and crimes, thankfully I have witnessed no murderous intentions. My attention, although it radiates throughout the world, is focused upon a certain area in America, in which no name is exigent, however is located in a populous sector of New York. Women with baskets often thrust breadcrumbs by the handful to be, where upon they hit the ground only three count inches from her feet.

My perception and interpretation of GhostFood have undoubtedly evolved more times than I can count. Participating in public art and engaging with strangers from various backgrounds has been a bizarre, risky, yet enlightening experience that I have found academically enriching and personally impactful. The very strangeness of GhostFood has thrusted me into the culturally colorful, yet much to be explored and understood Baltimore.

Leaving her place of employment, Lehane took in a deep breath, driving towards Pike Market. Lehane thought about the day, about everything going on around her. Nathaniel coming back, Chris coming back, her father died, and, her brother doing something that he shouldn't have done. It was all piling up inside needing to break out or something along those lines. Parking her car, she got out and walked the mile to Pike's Market. Pike's Market wasn't just known for its Wharf; It was one of the most historical parts of Downtown Seattle, Washington. That and the Space Needle, but Pike's that was the place all the tourists went. Not just to watch the cargo ships come in, or the fisherman bringing in their hauls, but it was a family environment. It was a place

It was eerily quiet within the vicinity of the building. The creaking of the wooden floorboards beneath Lennie’s feet, the rustle of leaves on the opposite side of the wall, and the constant beeping of the home monitoring system was disturbingly loud as he made his way towards the kitchen. The bright neon lights that was placed directly outside his window, proclaiming the words, 'Truth is Knowledge is Power' which was the governments logo projected an array of colours across his kitchen which only resulted in his vision being further eluded. He switched the lights on within his house, blinding himself in the process and stumbled across to the fridge. His stomach growled and his headache sharped piercingly between his ears. He couldn’t wait

Even Archy and Frank’s commanding officer, without needing to, stood up and went over the trenches, saying he wouldn’t expect the men to do something he wouldn’t do himself. These selfless acts show just how powerful the bond of brotherhood among these men had become and how they would do anything to protect each other, to the very

I decided from there to walk along the street, instead of following the unlit lonely path along the river. I returned to the red stoplights and red tail-lights. I was overcome with red. Red canopy at an auto parts store. Red office of coffee and bagels. Red sign for a red-roofed McDonalds with red digital text on a digital board promising the “best coffee.” A red Staples. A red title “Hampton Inn” perched like a benevolent deity upon a tower of four bright rectangles with drawn curtains and red Exits. Beneath it a red “Village Inn” with the last four letters beneath it blinking on and off.