Personal Narrative Essay : Growing Up As A Beautiful Home

I lived in a small trailer home with my mom, dad, older brother and younger brother. I loved that little trailer, even if it was not the best, I still called it home. Even though I loved that place, there were times when I noticed that my parents would struggle financially and they wanted us to have more than a little home, they wanted the best for us. There were also personal difficult obstacles we had to overcome as a family. As a result, my mom went back into college to study for a Registered Nurse. I didn’t spend as much time with my mom as one child wishes they could, but I knew she was working lots of hours and going to class just to be able to give us the life she thought we deserved. The same applies for my dad, I knew he would come home from work in pain, exhausted, but he was doing it all for his kids. As I was growing up and noticing these things about them, I began to admire them and loved how

Someone broke into my car and about $400 worth of cash and items were stolen.

Well to get started it was the blistering cold winter of 1861. I was an only child well I guess after 10 long years I was. My little brother Todd died when he was 7. Todd suffocated and fell down a chimney when he was cleaning it. My dad died when I was 4. He was working down in a coal mine and CRASH, the mine collapsed. If you think that's bad it gets worse. It was my mom and I left in a small house that could barely even fit us in it. My mother never told me how she felt she only cared about me, she worked 22 hours and barely made enough money to feed us. But I can tell you that all the money she got she spent on me so I had enough food and drink, to live.One day she came home crying, I knew something was up and there was. My mother had diphtheria, I tried to help I really did but there was no use. Her last words were,”Timmy make me proud and have…”She never finished.

I Don’t remember much of my family when I was little, But I can tell you that I am thankful for the family that I have. At the age of two my mom and dad had to make some tough decisions by leaving me in Nicaragua with my grandmother and grandfather , but I don’t want you to think that my mom and dad did not care about me , about leaving me behind. But the reason behind as why my parents had to make that decision was because of my brother Marco who had a heart decease. That in Nicaragua there wasn’t enough resources to make a heart surgery so they decided to live the country to migrate to THE UNITED STATE so they could do a open heart surgery to my brother, in which my brother did not make it . At the age of five year old I remember sitting in the stairs in front of the house, it was a cloudy day while I was sitting their I recall looking at the sky and thinking about my mom and dad were they could be at the time I was looking at the sky.

I woke up on a warm sunny Saturday morning and went down stairs and called my friend Joey Gliech and said “Today is the day!”

I left my radio in the back room in was most likely with the volunteer who was covering for me. He yelled at me to "get up" and told me lets talk in Joshs' office (which was a few steps away). Daniel storms in Joshs' office, turns on the light and sits down in the office chair in front of the desk with his arms crossed and a sticky note in his hand. I follow him and prop the door open with the door stop is I say "lets keep the door open it's hot in here." The real reason I did this was because I was extremely uncomfortable. He then yells, "Do you want to tell me where you have been?". I was standing in the door way, not completely in the room when I told him that I met with HR. He asked very angrily who I got permission to leave from and then stated that I left my post without permission.

I HAD BEEN ASLEEP QUITE SOUNDLY FOR A COUPLE HOURS, WHEN I WAS AWOKEN BY AN ALL TOO FAMILIAR SOUND. IT SEEMED LIKE EVERY TIME MY BRAIN REGISTERED CERTAIN NOISES - EVEN WHEN I WAS DEEP IN SLEEP, IT SENT OFF A PANIC TRIGGER THAT FLOODED THROUGH MY MIND. THIS WAS ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE TIMES.

The agency I chose to interview was MyHouse at 300 North Willow in Wasilla, Alaska. Their mission is to provide safe shelter for homeless youth with a goal of connecting kids to a network of caring individuals and agencies able to assist them in becoming self-sufficient. They have a board of directors that meet regularly to discuss issues and where to go next with the agency.

     Due to the fact that my father was now on his own and trying to raise three children (my older brother from my father’s first marriage), he had to take a different position at his work. Although he was getting a raise it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He had to start working the night shift so he could get the raise. He didn’t really have a choice in the matter and because of this new change, I began to lose valuable time with him as well. It was now up to my brother to watch over us at night and make sure we got to bed on time. If there was any trouble or and problems in general, my brother would call my grandmother. For three years my dad worked that job and every night he would stay up after he got home to see us. He would make my sister and I breakfast and make we were off to school on time. This meant the world to me because no matter what he always made time for us.

The name given to me on June 23rd, 1998 was Allison Ree Moga, but since then many have referred to me as Alli. My younger brother, sister, and I are the product of a marriage that has since gone wrong. I don’t have any allergies, am a bit of a germaphobe, and could do without all of life’s drama. That and snakes. I deeply dislike snakes. My nightmares used to include six foot long snakes slithering down my driveway. Daytime relieved me, until I walked around the corner of my house one day and nearly fainted. On the west corner of the house, a skinny garter snake slowly made its ascent up along the siding. The disgusting thing stuck out of my house like a branch on a tree. Horrified, I turned away and almost stepped on Satan himself. A five foot long, PVC pipe thick, rat snake challenged me with his forked tongue. In response, I let out a blood curdling scream and ran into the house to dial my dad. At ten years old, I prepared myself for death. One simply does not live through a snake sighting. On the third ring, Dad answered my tears with,

It was a bright, warm evening when we were so excited to get a tiny, adorable puppy at Huntington, West Virginia in an enormous, brick house.

I remember my parents always trying to make sure everything was perfect for me when I was little. They always made sure that I was taken care of. I remember my dad having to carry me from the couch to my own bedroom every night when I was four because I wouldn’t fall asleep in there. I remember my mom staying in the Sunday school room during the service at the First Congregational Church in Sioux Falls with me when I was three because I didn’t want to be in a room full of strangers. I remember switching to Christ Lutheran Church in Hartford two years later because my parents wanted us to be comfortable, even though that had been the church they had gone to for 15 years. I remember my mom picking up cookies from The

Home is the place one spends more time in their life and share special moments with family. Where one expects to live permanently carefree and feel protected under the roof of their house. One day I want to have a home that makes me feel well and where I can be safe and happy. The purpose of this essay is to illustrate the decisions I made about designing my future dream house.

My childhood wasn’t always perfect. When I was younger I lived up north with my biological father, mother, and siblings. We looked like a perfect american family. Seemed nice and perfect out in public. But no one really knew how my father was. Let's just say I didn't have the perfect father. All people saw was the good part of him. The part my mom fell in love with. My mother is a kind lady. Caring and always taking care of others. I would say maybe she was sometimes a little too nice when she was younger always forgiving people. She would wake up every morning make breakfast and even lay my father's clothes out for him before work. So all he would have to do is wake up and go on about his life.

When my dad got done explaining me why my biological mom left I still did not understand why because I am still young and do not understand most of the things yet. My mom came toward me and hug and I say, “thank you for doing everything.”