Personal Narrative: A Day At The High Bar

Most people are all grown up when they finally figure out what they want to do with their life. I was 4. I realized what I wanted to be when I attended my very first Rodeo. Even though it was so long ago I can remember that day like it was yesturday. That day got me on the path to my future.

It was near the end of my 8th grade school year, about 2 month away from graduation, when something I never expected to happen actually happened. This event really changed my life forever and shaped me into who I am as a person today. I had just arrived at my house after school when my parents received a call that my grandma was ill and that we should come down to check on her. As we rushed down to my grandparents house, my family was deeply concerned about what may have happened because my grandma had never really had many health issues before this. As we arrived at their house and walked through the door, we were greeted with the sight of my grandma sitting in a chair with a blanket around her while she was sleeping. My family’s first reaction

Hi iam Edgardo Flores i was born in casa grande, az not that far away from our state capital,Phoenix, Az.theres nothing better to do in a hot summer than going out with the friends to a lake and have a blast riding jet skis boats and my favorite, swimming!My activites of the day are shooting,riding horses,and my favorite one is quad riding.Thats right! ive been doing these fun exciting hobbies since i was 9 years old.pretty young huh?

We had this playset that had a bar on the left side to do flips on. On the other side there was a climbing rope, and in the front there were two swings. My brother and I came up with a game to see who could get over the bar fastest by doing a flip. So the first few times I did it I was fine, I grabbed the bar put my stomach on it and spun down. My brother and I took turns and on my 3rd turn I must not have done it correctly, but either way I hit my head on it right below my eyebrow. I fell on the ground and held my hand to my eye, by then I started crying because of shock. Surprisingly it didn’t hurt that bad, but it was just throbbing. My brother came over and told me to move my hand so he could look at it when I did he looked worried, he told me that we had to go in the house right away. I had blood all over the palm of my hand and on the right side of my face. He helped me up and walked there with me to the house.

Thump! In a split second, I was lying on the ground. My head throbbing and my mind reeling. I had fallen from the high bars and slammed my head on the ground. I remember giving myself a concussion after that fall; I never wanted to get back on those bars. I had to do what I was afraid of despite the fear I felt in order to overcome larger obstacles in life.

I have been in the Marine Corps for roughly three and a half years and throughout that time I have done many things. Most of the things that I have done were with Combat Logistics Battalion 26. For three years, I worked with that unit through work ups and a deployment and I have seen and done many unique things. However, nothing I did with CLB 26 felt fulfilling, but that all changed when I changed units to CLB 8.

It is a somewhat unspoken agreement that people all have, and breaking this agreement is frowned upon. The bathroom is a very unsocial place. You go do your business and then leave, it is very simple. The social norm that I broke was talking to someone in the stall next to me, and continuing to have a conversation even when it was clear they did not want to have one.

I chose to break the norm of either smiling at strangers or giving them a neutral look when you make eye contact. I decided to give every stranger I passed a confused look like they had just spoken to me in another language. I must admit, this made me feel a bit goofy. I was on the fence as to whether or not to do this in the first place but I decided I just had to. The responses I received were quite comical. A few people asked if I was alright, and one person even asked if I had a problem with them.

When I think of the word legacy I think of how I will be remember and what I will leave behind for generations to come. I think of people like Martin Luther King Jr and Gandhi, whose impact changes the lives of many and the world as it was known during that time. I don’t think that my impact will be received on such a big scale like Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, and many other but hopefully I will be able to touch the people who were close to me during my lifetime.

Think of what you would think of on your final day of life. Sitting in your hospital bed,

"Honey, this is going to feel a little weird, you might feel a burning sensation in your hand", a gray nurse mellowly whispered in my ear. The nurse wasn't kidding about the burning and neither had any of the nurses before; it feels like lighter fluid is going through my veins. My heart is finally calming down a little now, everything around me that should be making me nervous is way too familiar to do so: the constant erratic beeping, uncomfortable adhesive dots on my chest, sounds of shuffling tennis shoes, all under blinding florescent

It was the last inning, the count was two balls and two strikes with two outs. Our catcher calls a curveball, I move three steps to my right. Alex is in the stretch, he starts his motion towards home, the runner on first breaks for second base. The pitch is delivered and the ball is hit directly up the middle and over the pitcher’s head, coming from shortstop, I break to my left, I am about to catch the ball when I glance at the runner. He was sliding right into me, I caught the ball, jumped up, and threw the ball while in mid-air. It was a perfect throw, right to the first baseman’s chest. That was it, the game was over, we had just beaten the number one team in the country to advance to the world series! We all threw

“Five more minutes,” I respond, while rubbing my eyes, then rolling onto the “cool side” of the bed.

One day last year my dad and I were watching tv when the commercial for the mcgregor vs aldo fight came on, and i said mcgregor is gonna win, and he said you’re dreaming. So we argued for about thirty minutes until my Mom told us to be quiet.

I had always been fascinated by art, but it was a distant fascination that lent itself more towards observation than actual creation. The winter before I turned fourteen, my eighth grade art class held a contest to create a design for the school district’s Christmas card. Having been sick for three days, I did not hear of the contest until the day it ended. Finding a forgotten sketch I had done of a Christmas bell, I decided that no harm could come from entering it. To my complete and utter stupefaction, I won. The indescribable feeling of pride, accomplishment, and joy that I felt made me realize how much I loved art, and that I might possibly be good at it. Dedicating myself to my newfound passion, I convinced my parents to enroll