Personal Narrative

In the beginning of third grade was so exciting because I will get to see my friends. But when I got home my parents told me and my brother that we are moving. I was really excited at first because it was my first time moving.

I love living in a small town, it gives me a sense of guaranteed safety and simplicity.

I arrived at practice with my shoes laced, hair pulled back, and the mindset that I was unstoppable. I could play against every member of my team and come out the victor on any given day. It was the first day of practice that week, and challenge matches were scheduled to begin. The team went through our daily shuffle of drills, conditioning, and running to prepare for what was lying ahead. While warming up with my friends, I felt great, talking about homecoming, boys, and a variety of irrelevant events. I felt ready. The odds were in my favor and nobody could stop me.

For the first ten years of my life, I had a very normal childhood. I went to a private catholic school in a small town called Westwego. We were about twenty five minutes south of New Orleans. During the summers, friends and family would come over to our house and we would all swim and boil seafood. The summer of 2005 was no different; I was looking forward to entering 5th grade. Fast forward to one week before school is about to start when Hurricane Katrina formed in the Atlantic Ocean. Hurricanes were no strangers to us as we have been through several throughout the years. However, a few days later the storm is upgraded to a Category 3 and is predicted to hit New Orleans dead on. My parents felt it was time for us to leave and we traveled

Red lights, traffic lines, students walking or dragging, I could hardly tell. Today marks the day of my first day of high school without my best friend who may not connect to me blood-relatively but a family in my heart. I thought to myself, what if I can’t find any of my friends? What if I can’t find any of my classes? What if everything doesn’t turn out the way I want it to? Anxiety and panic roll in my body as soon as my mom stopped the car. I hesitated to open the car door, making little movements to even try to get out the car. I waved goodbye and shut the door closed so lightly that I think my mom had to properly shut it again. As I make my way to the front entrance with the gated black fence that shines so dimly, I looked up randomly at the sky, noticing that the clouds appeared very cloudy and immediately assumed that the rain will start sprinkling

It was a cold day in November as I scampered out of my Biology class, unsatisfied with the grade that I had received on my exam. I rushed to the basement of my campus’s athletic facility brimming over with frustration and quickly tossed aside my school supplies in exchange for a pair of soccer cleats and goalkeeper gloves. I threw over my grass-stained gray cotton sweatshirt, stepped outside to the bite of an approaching winter and joined my comrades in our warm-up lines. The boys were all laughing and talking about what happened over the weekend as we prepared for another practice. Being surrounded by my teammates made me forget about my worries and allowed me to disappear into the routine of physical activity. My collegiate varsity soccer

At the beginning of my freshman year I was attempting to develop motivation as well as seeking purpose and determining value. Whether in school or during sports or other activities and events in my life, I was constantly searching for motivation towards a goal or achievement.

I will start this off with an introduction. I am Kelly Rose Keschner, an incoming sophomore in Highschool. I would say I get pretty good grades and try so hard in school to prove to myself and my peers that I am a very good student despite what has happened to me.

She carries symbolic bracelets and tangled up headphones and torn playbills. She carries crumpled sheet music, a highlighted play script, a rusty gun and holster, an old calculator, worn out journals for writing fragmented lyrics, passionate feelings, unforgotten memories, and so much more. Twice or three times a week she carries packets of law and a lunch that was packed that morning. She carries a water bottle that is always half empty, or much like herself, half full, depending on how you see it. Wyatt carries the priceless shark tooth necklace she gave him, locked away somewhere unknown. Hannah carries the cheap but meaningful books that she gave her, unread but still valued. Her mother carries the candy she gave her, hard but sweet, a reflection of her soul. Something they all carried in common, was that they all carried something that was given; taking turns, they carried pieces of her shattered heart.

It was a normal chilly sunday on September 13th, 2015. My dad was in the garage with some of his friends watching the football game. It was the Dallas Cowboys vs. the New York Giants. My dad and his friends were making hot dogs and burgers on the grill but I don’t like those so I asked my dad if I could go to the store and get the ingredients to make taco dip. He handed me $20 and I headed off to the store with one of my dad’s friend’s son. The store was at the end of my street so it wasn’t a far walk.

I grab the handle on the door frame, and pull my five foot self up into the driver's seat. Leaving the door open, I turn the key in the ignition. Doesn't start. "Try again." Daryl hooks his hand around the top of the door. I nod and twist the key forward again. This time it clicks for a few seconds, then starts right up. The purring of the engine enlightened the mood a bit. Tara jogs over to Rick. "The van works." "We have our transportation." Rick nods before signaling the rest over. "Want to get out of the city before dark, we'll find a spot in the woods to settle for the night and go from there." I made sure I was in the same car as Daryl, even if it meant not being in the same as Carl, but I need to comfort one of the biggest father figures

In that moment I realized the world isn’t all friendship and giggles. I never expected to see or hear someone so cruel before in my life, I thought it only ever happened in the telenovelas my mom and watched after she picked me up from elementary school. I could see Skylar, the new student in my kindergarten class, talking with an upperclassman behind the tall metal slide. I barely heard the introductions, but I could clearly hear when the upperclassman laughed. He laughed at the name that the boy was given. I didn’t expect what came out of my mouth, and they certainly didn’t either.

In San Francisco, about a year after my mother died, when I was nine or ten years old and going to the second new school since moving in with my father, I had a desperate crush on a girl named Lisa. She was a year older than me, in the next grade level up (our classrooms were combined). She was pretty, Asian, was popular with a group of friends that would surround her during recesses.

I got out of bed at 3 o’clock in the morning to my mom shaking me. It was a Saturday in the middle of summer so I was a bit confused, then it occurred to me that I was leaving for a mission trip. I remember getting to our church as everyone was praying and about to leave. I apologized for my timing and we continued to pray. We left for Springfield, Kentucky caravaning with 4 toyota mini vans filled with luggage and kids. The drive there consisted of sleeping, cramping, and a horrendous odor. We reached the center of Kentucky and arrived to the church we were staying at at about 1 p.m. Saturday. All the boys in our youth group went to check the place out and immediately started to play basketball in the gym. When all the other youth groups showed up from Nebraska and Georgia, they began to join in our game. We played basketball for about 15min before we all gathered together to have our introduction to the week.

I stumbled out of the car, nervously awaiting my unavoidable fate. It was July 1st, 2010, the day after my 9th birthday. I knew what this meant. It was time for my yearly check up at the pediatrician. For the 100th time, I asked my mom if I needed any shots - probably my greatest fear in life - this year as we stepped into the elevator that reeked with the smells of sick people and anti-disinfectant wipes. “I don’t know, Jason. You survived last year’s shots, so you will be fine,” she calmly replied.