Personal Narrative Essay: Wicklund's Home

My dad was a considerably strong sergeant in his time. During the Vietnam War, his last battle, he was taking cover behind an old abandoned shed when someone came around from behind and shot him four times in the back. Worst news ever, but worst of all was the month after when I received word that my mom was struck in an explosion and that she might not make it. I held out hope till the final word but deep down inside I knew that I wasn’t gonna see her again besides in her grave. After all the pain and anguish I was feeling, I knew I had to come back to reality and find a way to survive as a thirteen year old girl in a cold and bitter war zone.

It was a beautiful day on Lake Erie with the lake’s misty wind sprinkling on my face as we drove out to the middle of the water to anchor. I was with my immediate family, my Aunt Ronni, Uncle Tim, and cousins from both sides of the family. All 10 of us were on my mom and dad’s boat, having fun swimming in the cool water and having the sun’s rays make our skin have a sun-kissed glow. All of the cousins were divided into two groups: the younger kid including my sister Josie and my two cousins Sadie and Hailey, and the older kids consisting of me and my cousins Kendall and Casey. Both groups were jumping in three at a time until we noticed Hailey, the youngest out of all the cousins, was refusing to jump in.

I was in school when I got a news flash about a shooting near a bus stop. At lunchtime, I opened up the story and it read, “Teen killed on way to lake park bus stop”. However, it wasn’t the headline that hit me but rather the first line of the article which mentioned that a Palm Beach Gardens high school teen, Claverle Joseph, was the one that was killed on his way to the bus stop. I didn’t know how to react. I just froze; I couldn’t process the emotions that were swirling through my mind. This was the first time in my life that I dealt with a death that was personal to me. My Grandparents had died when I was too young to recount any experiences with them. It was difficult to comprehend that I would never see a kid that I had gotten to know so well over the last three years ever again. My family and I did what we could for his family in there grieving state and donated to help raise money for his funeral. Although his death came as a surprise, I knew there was something wrong before the incident occurred because he did not come out for the travel team that last year. This was strange because he truly loved the team and playing basketball. Following my suspicion, a couple days after his death, I found out that there had been a series of incidents, including a shooting one week before his death in which he had been shot in the hand. His family stated for the news that they had been living in fear of their son’s life for a while. I wish I could have done more for him because whether he knew it or not he did so much for my growth as a person on and off the court. His life and this experience taught me to truly value one’s own life and to never take anything for granted because it could all be erased in an instant. His death helped me understand that I need to be as compassionate and empathetic for everyone I meet because you will never comprehend what adversities and difficulties they face in their

As I jump off the pontoon, I feel the freezing water surround my body. I'll slip on the boots of the skis and grab the handlebar. Releasing my grip, I put one thumb up into the wind to signal I’m ready to go. Suddenly there is a tug on the rope, and I’m being dragged through the water. Pressing the skis against the cold water, I can finally stand up above the waves. The boat pulls me around the bend of the lake, and the view of all the enormous cabins is thrilling. The seniors on the campground beach will clap and stand up from their Adirondack chairs to wave or whistle. As my legs begin to feel tired, I wave one last time and let go of the handlebar. I can feel my body quickly sink down into the water; the life jacket on my chest will be

We are finally here. First, we check in at the camp office, we had online reservations for a specific site, so the registration went with ease. Then we stock up on firewood purchasing five bundles. Being somewhat of a regular here we know exactly how to get to our destination campground. We drove on a narrow, winding dirt road, the gravel under the tires made a popping sound to our site and the drive was gorgeous - fall foliage at its best. A coating of vibrant red, yellow, and orange covers the terrain. Panoramic views of the sprawling Pawtackaway lake are breathtaking to witness. Wooded campgrounds line the shore of the lake and most of them come with a private view of the water. You get the feeling of being secluded in forest and lake environment with a relaxing and picturesque atmosphere. The lake is spotted with numerous various size islands mainly created from post glacier rock formations. Much of the topography is boulder spawn giving it a New Hampshire mountain feel. There actually is a small mountain you can hike. Hiking trails overlooking the rim of the rambling lake. There is a no better place to escape to the great

"You can't keep holding on to stuff like this, James." Natasha sighed, slipping a delicate hand through her hair. "It's not healthy."

We all woke up that morning early so we could get all packed and ready to go. We had to take two separate cars because of how many people we had to take. The car ride was eccentric and ready to jump out of the car and into the lake at any moment. Finally both of the cars made it to the destination, my parents and my friends parents both rented all of the things we could use for today. Throughout the whole day we used the water bikes, kayaks and paddleboards for how

One night while we were there we took three four wheelers down to the lake, and sat by the fire. When it started to get late the six of us decided to head back up to our houses. There were two of us on each four wheeler. Connor and Brayden were on one, Nick and Lauren on another, and Frankie and I on the last. Nick and Connor were driving two of the four wheelers and decided to race. Connor didn't know the road very well, missed a turn, and he wrecked. At the time I didn't know the severity of the injuries, but I tried my best to do what I could for the two boys. I used the techniques that I had learned in health class my freshman year, such as, CPR. Brayden was not unconscious so I encouraged him to keep coughing because I could see that he was choking on blood, but I was too scared to move him due to the possibility of back injuries. Later I had learned that Connor's head went into a rock wall, he was killed on impact, and there was nothing that I could have done. Brayden was severely injured and had to be

My story begins on our third day at the camp. This was just one of the several interesting events that had occurred while in Montana. While the day was young, the wonder of what activities might be available trekked our minds. The water seemed just too

I was Trick,or treating in spencer and I went to mss. Millers house and she gave me some candy reese’s, hershey’s, butterfinger, and whoppers then she pointed behind me saying there are lights behind you. I turned back, there weren’t any lights all there was, was a shadow what looked like a semi parked on the road then I left then I heard the engine sound follow me and I looked back I saw the semi was closer then before then I was at mrs. Kendalls house and knocked on her door and she comes out and gives me a hug and she gives me candy too! And she hears a honk of the truck and I heard it and I looked back and I saw the truck even closer so I leave mrs. Kendall and goes to to mrs. Fulks house and she gives me a fist bump and some candy and

In the summer before seventh grade, my church had inflatable waterslides out one Wednesday for the children’s department (I wasn’t yet in the youth). My dad was out of town for his work, so my mom, little brother, and I went with two of my friends; they currently attend Bartlett Ninth Grade Academy with me. My friends were also going to spend the night with me. We went down the waterslides, ate snow cones, and had fun.

One day this summer, I was in a white boat with some of my parents’ college friends and their kids on Lake of the Ozarks. There was this tube thing that was basically a couch in the water. It fit four people comfortably, and has Great Big Mabel printed on the side. I was one of the only girls on the boat, so I had to go with the smelly boys. I went with my brother Ryan, and my friends Jedidiah and Aiden.

One hot, June afternoon when I was 13 years old, I was sitting in the living room at my dad’s house while everyone else was outside. Instead of going camping this year, my dad decided that we would go floating down the river, and do other fun activities without leaving home for a whole week. My sister, Madi, had her boyfriend over riding the blue four wheeler with the clutch, and my brother, Kannon, was riding his red dirt bike. It was nice having the house to myself, but eventually got boring.

Early in the month of June I was riding shotgun in the car with my mom and three half-sisters. The sky was a creamy orange, punctuated by a late setting sun in front of us as we headed back to Avon that evening. My mom doesn 't like to answer the phone while she 's driving, and remembered that she had missed a call from my grandmother earlier. Her hands on the wheel, she asked me to listen to the voicemail. I heard my grandmother 's tired voice. "I got a call today about Ryan...”. My throat dried up. "If you could just call back to talk about it sometime tonight or tomorrow...." she trailed off. Ryan was my dad, whom I had never met due to his unwillingness to play the part. I put the phone down and relayed the words to her. I could practically see the lump in her throat as we drove to my grandmother 's apartment, where the two of them discussed the information through tears and choked up voices. He was dying in a hospital bed in Tampa. The message carried less weight to me, though. After all, this was a complete stranger. But for my

Around 9th grade, my friend Daniel rang the doorbell to my house. Tears started to pour down his face as he elucidated how he ran up to his room after hearing his father profusely yell at his mother. He listened to the plea of his mother’s voice until the commotion stopped with his mother’s deafening scream and the front door slamming to a close. Trembling, he called the police from his room and proceeded to run downstairs to witness his mother laying on the mahogany hardwood floor; her face and hands were covered in dark red gore. Recalling this situation left his face empty, like that of a soldiers when they remember friends getting killed in action, and his voice quavered with the words that he spoke. He knew how everything in his life was about to change forever.