Personal Narrative Essay 'Asha'

I believe in having responsibility for my actions for the rest of my life. Responsibility can earn me a ton of things, such as money and treats. If I do an action or sometimes help my mother with an action, I gain a dollar or two or my mom gives me a treat, like Sweet Frog’s. In this case, I wouldn’t mind being responsible because it involves something that I care about dearly.

It was a beautiful, cool July morning in the mountains of Colorado; the birds were chirping and the leaves on the trees were rustling. I could almost taste the bacon sizzling on the stovetop as my mother made breakfast. Nothing could ruin a perfect morning like this… At least that’s what I thought. Interrupting the cooking of breakfast, my mom’s cell phone strangely began to ring; there hadn’t been many people trying to contact my mom since she was on vacation. However, my mom ran to answer the call. “Oh, it’s your sister,” I heard my mom say. Although I was in a different room, I could hear the concern and worry in my mother’s voice moments after she answered the phone. Instantaneously, my heart began to race. I began feeling sick to my stomach

The darkness consumed my cousin, but not completely. A part of me did not want to believe that she committed a mass murder and maybe, just maybe it was someone else. But the proof that the police needed was all there. We weren’t that close but it pained me to know that someone who i thought to be as a kind and caring person could kill people.

I did not meet with Pt. , I was paged by Lisa Micciulla, front desk in the emergency room to please come to the ED concerning an "urgent" situation regarding this Pt. When I arrived in the ED registration area an MGH Security personnel stopped me to talk with Pt's daughter, Charlene McDonald. Pt's daughter explained she was not being allowed to see her father, who she understands was brought to MGH for surgery after a fall. Explained to Ms. McDonald, I was aware of Pt having a gaurdian, and that there was a court ordered visitation schedule between Ms. McDonald and Pt. She reported this was an extreme situation and she showed me text messages she had sent to Pt's guardian, Attorney Tine Hajjar. I advised I could not allow Ms. McDonald access to Pt. Based on the order from probate court. Ms. McDonald has visits with Pt on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday 11:00 a.m. -4:00 p.m.

This summer, I took a shopping trip to target for a late night snack attack. Before checking out at the cashier stand, I strolled through the one dollar spot. If there’s anything I’ve gained from my mother, it's to never ignore a good deal. It was mainly cheap plastic toys for kids but, yet something caught my eye. A Dr. Seuss section, filled with little metal lunch boxes, pencil pouches, sippy cups, and pencils. From Green eggs with ham to One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. I immediately started sifting through these goodies. Dr. Seuss had been the foundation to my reading journey. Reading all his books since I was six. For Dr. Seuss to fit into my epiphany moment, let me give you a brief but important background to me, Belinda Coronado.

She sobbed as if she were a mere child and lost in a new city, because in her head, she was. In reality, she was not a child; she was a freshman in college only two hours from home. Those two hours felt like too many, especially separated from her family. She found herself in room 512, Florida Avenue Residence Hall fully immersed in isolation and dependency. Nevertheless, I knew, at this moment in time, this was my turn to twist, bend and to recast all of my hopes into success.

Being healthy and staying active is not something my family has been worried about. I have to be honest,I thought the same thing before I started wrestling. I ate anything I wanted too, I was not too active. I like to sleep in and play video games. I was out of shape and couldn’t run very far without losing my breath. This all changed when I started to wrestle.

It was my Grandpa Buck his story changed his life. It was one beautiful afternoon my grandpa decided to go to the Drunken Bar and Grill after he was done with worked. He was going to meet his friend Peter there. They had a hamburger and some cold beer. After he was done at the Drunken Dar and Grill he went to another bar. He had some more beer and he got drunk and he had to call my grandma Judy to have her come pick him up. Then my grandpa decided that it was fun to go and party with his friends every Friday night. Then he said very quiet

I was in 8th grade, but I walked out that high school gym with my shoulders back and head high like I was the big man on campus. My confidence went through the roof. In one day I had gone from extreme anger with my parents. Then I experienced terror as my parents drove me to the high school. Surprisingly this turned around to confidence and pure excitement for the years to come.

Where I want to start telling is the day I broke the family. It was christmas, the happiest time of the year for a teenager, receiving presents -or money- from anyone and everyone. We were at dinner when all D.B could talk about was his crumby book, it’s nice and all but just because he has money doesn’t mean he has to talk about ALL the goddamn time. Tonight I wanted to go to the hamburger joint for dinner tonight but of course D.B wanted to go to this fancy new restaurant so that’s where we ended up going. D.B always gets what he wants, ever since he was a child, he was the kind of kid that every parent and teacher loved, he was so intelligent and courteous and compassionate UGH! What a brown noser. I could not stand to listen to one more minute of my brother D.B’s goddamn successes and accomplishments, blah blah blah, so he wrote a book, a book about a stupid kid and his goldfish, for that he makes money? Any dummy could do that. Half

First, when I was four years old, me and my older brother started asking our parents if we could have a baby brother. After that, my parents started to laugh and told us that probably not because they were good with only two kids. Me and my brother were disappointed and decided to convince our parents no matter what. After a while, my parents got tire of hearing us complain about getting a baby brother and they told us that we were not getting one. Then, the next month my mother started getting a little fat. My Mom told me that she had to go to the hospital because she was sick. A few months went by and my Mom was getting fatter every month. I started to worry about my mom, so I started asking her if she was going to get better. After I asked her, she told me to go get my older brother because she had to tell us something really important. When I got him and came back with my Mom, I got really scared because I thought she was going to tell us that she was really sick. A few moments later she told us “Listen, remember when you asked me if you guys could have a baby brother, well, we you’re not going to get one but two twin brothers!” After that I thought she was lying and I started to get mad until she told me that she was actually saying the truth and that’s when I got shocked and I thought myhead was going to explode. That was one of the best days of my life.

You know, it is funny when we recall memories. We have a path ahead of us, and we like to look back where the roads were simple or easy or rough or all over the place. But one of my fondest, best memories was not on any road, far from it… a good thousand feet above. I was about thirteen when I joined Air Cadets, and I joined mostly because I wanted to fly. Would I do what I did again? Yes. In a heartbeat.

I came back home to pack my belongings in order to be hospitalized. I did not know whether I would ever be able to come back to my place with sound body. I sincerely regretted my drinking and smoking habit. Those bad habits may have triggered or helped development of the cancer. However, nothing much I could do at that moment. The only one I can rely on was God. I prayed and tried to stay strong and be focus on a miraculous recovery. However my situation did not get better. The flow of urine got weaker, and it took longer to empty my bladder. I had to go to the toilet frequently, because a little drop of urine kept trickle out and it stained underpants right after my toilet usage. I did not feel complete emptiness of my bladder. Yet I prayed

There is this feeling that has overcome me in the past few weeks, a feeling that I am clinging to something that does not exist anymore. That I am clinging to a feeling, to a time of freedom and innocence. I’m clinging to games played in the backyard, to the smell of grass as I tumble down a hill, to play dates, blanket forts and stamping in muddy puddles. I am clinging to childhood.

Music is a really tricking thing, we often think about music as something that should be enjoyed or something to help us pass the time, case in point when I leave my earphones I feel like I have left a part of my soul at home and immediately assume I going to have a really bad day. It could be because when I have music with me helps me deal with my social anxiety or just because music is such instrumental part of how feel we day to day. Music often plays at role with memories we listen to certain songs and often think about certains moments in our lives.