Personal Narrative Essay : My Birth Father And Your Parents

Growing up I was not the luckiest person. My parents created me to fix their relationship, that did not work out of course. So obviously they got a divorce, but they got a divorce three days before my second birthday.

Annoyed at this, I turned once again and lay on my back. I took a deep

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was in a park, bright and sunny out , I was feeling every kind of emotion there was to feel. I didn’t know what to expect or how I was going to react. My mom was right next to me looking calm as ever. How did she do it? Suddenly, I see a car pull up and a taller, muscular man steps out. That’s the very first time I met my biological dad.

The predicament I am in right now is a blessing, considering the trials I have dealt with in the past. Growing up in inner-city Jacksonville propelled me into the man I am becoming today. Some of the circumstances that many inner-city adolescent youth deal with growing up, such as single-parent households, and inadequate financial stability; automatically dubbed me as a product of my environment. Paving a way for my family is what motivated me the most, and like many teenagers, I felt the task could be strictly achieved by athletics. I had a strong aspiration of playing professional sports, and had varying degrees of success in basketball, and football. Honestly, I was never considered the greatest by my peers, but it was hard to debate my work ethic. Seeing my mother work rigorously day in and day out inspired me. She encouraged me and imparted her knowledge on life’s challenges towards me.

My story begins when I was in the second grade. Times were good, and I was enjoying my childhood. On a certain Sunday I and my mom attended church, as we did on other Sunday’s. This time though my dad decided not to come with us because he said he was tired. So we were off on our own doing our regular Sunday activities.

My father is profoundly wise in the topic of athletics. He knows more ways to get stronger, faster, or even more flexible than anyone I have ever encountered. Putting this knowledge with my determination, we made a rigorous workout plan that we would do at home every single night. One note to make, is that my dad was not forcing me to do these workouts in any way. He asked me if I still wanted soccer to be as exhilarating as it was when I was younger, then I needed to put the time in to my craft every day. Soccer is in my blood, and I was not ready to give it up yet. The workouts were composed of mile runs on the treadmill, medicine ball exercises, and leg strengthening drills. After the preliminary week of this aspiring effort to to achieve

After moving a countless amount of times, my home does not have a roof and windows. My home has become my biggest motivator- my father. I am one of the few, lucky people to be born into and privileged with such a small, but loving family. Not only has my father provided me with a life I can thrive in, the story of his life in China is what gives me the confidence to pursue a career in the medical field. At his high school, he studied every day for more than nine hours and became the top student, despite the fact that his future in education seemed bleak because of the Cultural Revolution. Getting a higher education was his dream, yet illegal. After succeeding in high school, he was forced by the government to attend a labor camp, where he

“Prove them wrong” When I was in fourth grade my dad and brother and I were playing basketball at our house, to help my brother practice. I had never played basketball except against my brother, Brayden. My dad would always be our referee and it was a lot of fun. Even though I never beat Brayden. Brayden didn’t think I was very good, and he would have to play easy on me instead of playing as well as he could have played. It really annoyed me I wanted to be as good as him or better because I wanted to actually have a chance to be better than him at one sport.

“Ya son las Cinco y media,” is what my dad would say to me everyday during summer. We would go up to Redlands to this avocado groove to pick avocados. Under the big, tall, leafy trees we would work until our bodies couldn't take it anymore and needed a break. We would work under the hot scorching sun, our faces dripping in sweat until 3:30. I would always get home tired knowing the same thing was waiting for me the next day.

My dad was an alcoholic all my memories consisted of me coming home from my babysitters or school, he would be drunk passed out on the couch with beer bottles everywhere, and nascar on the television.

"Never forget the past…because it may haunt you forever. Regret all the bad things…cherish the good things. Look ahead always…but don't let the bad things from the past get in your mind." As a young child, there were so many incidents in my life that made me become the person I am today. There were rough times as well as good times. If I were to tell you all of them, I would remember half of them. I think some of my incidents really had some impact, and some were just simple ways of life. To tell you the truth, the incident that had the most impact on me has to be when my real father left me at the age of three. I never knew my father. I mean being a baby, you really have no experience or recognition of somebody else.

My father was a lifeguard, but not in my lifetime, so maybe loving the ocean was in our blood. As children we grew up in Brooklyn and we would go to Riis Park for our day at the beach. One very distinct memory is of my father as he stood waist deep in the ocean with my brother and sister; the waves periodically lifted and dropped them in the water at his side. Waist deep for my father meant it was well over my head so I remained a safe distance (or so I thought) behind them. Suddenly, a wave appeared and and before I could turn and rush to the shoreline the ocean attacked. I found myself in a world of foam, pockets of air allowed me to breathe as I was tossed about like

All of the counselors started to clap and cheer for him. As Joey got up I could see his cheeks turn red like he truly felt like he belonged. He won the dance competition and that night the other counselors and I took him out for dinner. For dessert we took him to get ice cream and after that we went to the movies. During the movie it got boring

One Friday night, my dad and I were sitting around the fire talking about all of grandpa’s past memories. I will never be able to forget this story. In my future, I can only hope my love story will be this good.

I was adopted. I never knew my real mother; rather, I knew her at one time but I left her side when I was too little to be able to remember. I loved my adopted family though. They were so kind to me. I ate well, I lived in a warm and comfortable house, and I got to stay up pretty late.