Personal Narrative: Growing Up In A Home

Reporter stated he just found out about 30 minutes ago that there was no power in the home. It is unknown how long the power had been off. The was also no running water. It is unknown how long the water had been off. Reporter stated the landlord evicted the mother from the home and will change the locks tomorrow. Reporter stated his daughter (Morgan) went to the home becasue mom was on Facebook and implied about killing herself. Reporter stated Kynslee was in her crib. Mom couldn't pick her up because she has carpal tunnel and had to have surgery. Reporter stated the baby was soak and wet in the home. Reporter stated Isabella is with her father. Reporter believes Isabella is okay because Morgan wouldn't have allowed her to go with her father.

Growing up as a kid, I was quite the troublemaker. I would act out inappropriately at unfitting times, which frequently led to consequences. It did not matter whether I was in public or at home; I would continue to act the same. It ranged from using offensive words and physically hurting others, to being inconsiderate. I was a naïve child who was oblivious to the real world, and acted on a whim without the thought of the consequences for my actions. One may describe this behavior as simply what makes a child, a child; however, I never knew how much it would affect my life going forward.

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As I open the “Staff and Volunteer Only” door in the back of the East Bay SPCA animal shelter, I slip on my black apron stained from a year’s use and walk briskly through the back hallways with bright blue tennis shoes squeaking. Friendly hellos are exchanged as I pass familiar faces all wearing their blue staff shirts. After adjusting my nametag and grabbing a set of keys attached to a red dog chew toy, I head to the kitchen to prepare food. As I measure out the kibble and pour it into practical tin bowls, yips, barks, and whines echo the halls. The clattering of my keys at the kennel door usually has the dog inside alert and jumping of joy. However, as I open this particular door, holding a specially prepared meal, the dog lying on her

“Cindy, what makes you special is you. As you can finally guess, Vernon does background investigations on every applicate to work on this level and may have personal access to me. You are the only person within my entire conglomerate who had disclosed your entire life and even a few things that Vernon didn’t know. You may not think belong here, but I know you do. Just do me one small favor.”

"I can't believe it, that one mistake coasted me everything I once possessed," I grumbled under my breathe.

This week I got to take a trip to Gates Estate with Heather so that she could take a lesson with her trainer friend JJ Lavieri. At UNH I have learned to always dress professionally because you never know who you are going to meet and second people will take you more seriously when you dress professionally because you look like you know what you are doing. The night before this trip I set out my nice tan breaches, my UNH equestrian polo, and my tall boots. That morning I arrived to work a little early so that I could get the horse Deelite ready to goon the trailer. Heather had asked me to do standing wraps instead of shipping boots since it was only a short smooth trailer ride. Yet again keeping in mind that appearance is everything I dressed

Once again my location had changed. This time I was on an open terrace. I was still decked out in my ancient Middle Eastern garb. Adeline was next to me. I couldn’t move though. When I tried to move my arms up to brush the hair away from her face, my arm wouldn’t move. I moved my head around. I saw that all of my ligaments had been slashed. The wounds were still fresh. The sultan was on his knees begging for his life. King Rashad, my brother in this part of my dream, was sitting on his throne in front of the sultan. My brother looked at me. His face turned into a sad battle of emotion. He looked back at the sultan who was on his knees between two guards. They both had large blades at the end of long shafts. The ruler started to cry. Rage filled

I couldn’t believe that my summer vacation was coming to a close. I still hadn’t made any contact with Trevor. He didn’t leave a message the other night, so I had no idea where we stood relationship wise. I was still staying at Shay’s, but mom wanted me to go to her house and start dinner because she had to help Bessie with some yard work. Imani was home, but she wasn’t allowed to use the stove. My intentions were to go over, cook dinner, and get the hell out of there because I didn’t want to see Lester. I didn’t want the money that he was supposed to pay me because the entire situation made me sick to my stomach and I no longer wanted to hook up with him before I left to go back to Texas.

Growing up life was rough. I came from a broken family, where my biological father who was a Colombian native born but here on papers and had trouble finding employment in Miami. He a some point gave up finding employment that was legal, that he then turned to something illegal and later faced 15 years for money laundering. While my father was doing what he believed was everything at that point possible to take care of my then teenage mother, little brother and I, my mother saw it as an opportunity to pawn my brother and I off to whoever would watch us and go out mingling with a man who later became my step father, once Marshall's got hold of my father and sentenced him. When my father left we lost everything including our mother, even though

Ever since I was a little kid, I have been building things. I was drawn to my dad’s tools, and the spare wood around the house represented something new. Nearly every day I would go down into the basement, for one reason or another, and see the wood, and the heavy drawers where the tools were kept. Occasionally, my dad would have to make small repairs around the house, the kind that all homeowners make. I loved to watch him do these sort of jobs, and sometimes I would get to hold nails and screws, or keep that plywood sheet in just the right place, so he could hammer it in. I was disappointed that I couldn’t help him more. One day, I changed that.

My story begins at a pay phone on the east side of Cleveland in 1986. I and Flora found ourselves homeless once again. I was playing with the payphone and this was getting on her nerves so she hit me. I stopped this action and she proceeds to make her important call. A couple of hours later a Cleveland Police and a Social worker show up. I waved goodbye to my mother and was off to Dorothy Lee Jordan’s home.

While growing up as the youngest child I depended on my parents and siblings for just about everything. I would always seek for help rather than doing things by myself. I had my father drop me off at school, which was literally a five-minute walk. I would even ask someone to fetch me water because I would be busy playing video games. My brothers assisted me in doing homework because I wanted homework done as soon as possible so I can go play. I would get angry if no one was around because I wouldn’t know how to do some stuff because I had others doing them for me. I was sometimes guilty when I had others to do things for me but I ignored my guilty conscience and continued. This had a very negative effect on me because I became very dependent

FC met with family. Gabriella was in the home chasing the family's cats. Gabriella said "cat," "couch," and cat running." Gabriella ran and offered the two cats different toys. Gabriella noticed the FC's bag and questioned the contents, such as "what's that." Gabriella began to play with the family's ball and brought her own toys in the living room. Once the FC began the ELAP with Gabby's brother, Gabriella often yelled and attempted to take the toys from Mason. Christina often redirected Gabriella's behavior, but Gabriella was consistently became upset. FC offered Gabriella a puzzle, in which she needed assistance in completing. Gabriella's had often gotten frustrated in the process and returned to wanting toys Mason played with. Christina

Have you ever been forced to relocate without having a choice ? It’s not pleasing. It was mid March in 2014 and it was still somewhat wintry in Chicago at the time. I arrived at home after an extensive day at school, completed my homework, and unwound with tv. Shortly, it was time for dinner so I headed to the dining table. My parents requested for me to have a seat and I just knew something was up.