Personal Narrative-Geraldine Anderson's Home

As I sat in my fourth grade English class listening to my teacher tell me "you have a book report due in just two short weeks" and I thought to myself how am I ever going to do this? I have never been a good writer and I have no idea where to begin explaining the book "Little House on The Praire" and presenting it in front of the class without being embaressed as all get out.The day went on as I thought about it more and more the bell rang. I ran out to my mom's car and stated "Mom I have a book report due in just two short weeks and I cant do it. She said "why not honey" I said " Im just not s good enough writer" She said " yes you are and yes you can and you will do a fantastic job at it. That is when I realized I am a writer.

I didn't always live in California. Before California I lived in Denver, Colorado. Before Denver I lived in Aurora, Colorado. When we moved to california we had a family of five. We moved to California, when I was six, Then we lived at my grandma’s house in Riverside for a year. We found a place on Ferree Street and that became our home.

“No.” She shook her head, pressing her lips tight as she looked across the table at me. “He didn’t like the food. He didn’t ask about me.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Derek said with a smirk on his face. Together we walked through the long hall and made small talk. I found that the more time I spent with him, the more I began to trust him.

"More than anything, I just want you to know that there is more than one person you can lean on. You may have someone up their who you are relying on, but you have two incrediably strong sons who would never wish to see their mother in pain like this. Whatever the outcome we finally get your boys will be strong for you and in return I'm sure you will be strong for them."[/b]

On April 1, 2000, I was placed into a group home because of my behavior at the home. My dad and I didn’t get along. So he sent me to a placed called Bowman House. When I arrived there the first person I met was a lady name Alexander, she begin showing me around the units. Alexander was called the granny of the units. It was two units for the boys and girls. She took me to the boys unit first to look at the units. After I looked at the boys unit she took me to the girls unit. Where I would be staying. I had the chance to bond with Alexander, it wasn’t something I was trying to do it just happen. I had to stay with Alexander until the staff came back from picking the other peers up from school. An hour pass and the peers came back I had to go

The house was long, white, and had blue shudders. I could always pick out which set of windows out front peeked into my bedroom because of the messy off-white paint stuck to it after years of never being touched up. Inside, so much more was going on than the typical all-American home lead outsiders to believe. Confusion, growth, fear, and lots of aluminum cans.

"I recall. Sorry I didn't speak to you, I had quite an anxious day." Her eyes traveled down my body. Was she... checking me out? Judging me? I didn't know how to react or what to think, so I suppressed a smirk and shifted my weight to my left leg. I kept asking myself the same question: why was I so smitten with a girl? All my life, I had silly crushes on attractive boys who'd never notice me. I didn't even know Demeri, but I felt like I could know her very well. "I moved here a little late in the year."

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

Things changed quickly in Ashley Brawley's house when she smelled smoke while she was blow drying her hair, but the burning smell wasn't coming from the bathroom she was in, and it didn't have anything to do with her hair.

Half way through my sophomore year, I got my driver’s license. Every teenager looks forward to when they can go driving around town. I turned sixteen on February sixth in two-thousand fourteen. Teenagers can get a little rebellious on the roads. On April twenty-third of the same year, I learned that it isn’t good to be rebellious.

I Joyce Wilson landlord of the above address would like to gain access to Melanie Stafford’s apartment to do repairs. I have tried numerous times before but Melanie Stafford will not allow me or the workman in the apartment. Melanie Stafford has an unauthorized person living in the apartment and has keys to the apartment. I made several complaints and nothing has been done. Melanie Stafford has removed the fire/carbon dioxide detectors and threw them in the garbage on 4/24/16. The date of the inspection (4/18/16), there were fire/carbon dioxide detectors in Melanie Stafford’s apartment. I am asking HQS to notify Melanie Stafford about replacing the fire/carbon dioxide detectors immediately. Melanie Stafford is not paying her rent and she owes

The woman gave her a broad smile that crinkled her eyes, “I’m Fiona Fairday. Welcome to Rosemont. I’ve been waiting for you to arrive. You’re my last guest for the evening.” The woman was petite, not more than five feet two with beautiful skin reminiscent of a porcelain doll. She had arresting chestnut eyes within a soft, round face.

The drive to her own apartment seemed endless, but knowing it was the last time she'd have to lay eyes Martin Pugh made it that much sweeter. When the car halted outside her building, she gave an inward sigh of relief.

I look back once more at the poor lady. Very petite. She appears to have had plans tonight because she’s dressed in a formal black blouse with a sweater, and black slacks.