Personal Narrative-It's Memorial Day

Not so thankful for what happened on thanksgiving. On Thursday, November 26, 2015 my mom suggested that I invite some friends over. My mom just wanted to meet the guys that I was intending to go black friday shopping with later that evening I assumed. Thanksgiving morning, I had asked my friends Ceejay ,Alex, and Collin to come over on Thanksgiving. They arrived and my mom had introduced herself to them and was joking around with them.

If there was anything more terrifying to a shy, introverted, teenage girl than the idea of being a in crowded room full of strangers, it would to be actually in one. Yet, there I was, surrounded by a numerous amount of impatient, jet-black cars that illuminated the dark streets, rows of musicians rehearsing their piece by playing a dissonance of sounds, and the expectant, motley crowd of people lining up on the sidewalk for the veteran’s parade.

I’m a military child. Change was instilled in me since my birth in Spain. My childhood was spent briefly in Europe, the east coast of the U.S, and eventually the Midwest. This change of scenery, schools, friends, and just about everything else in my life led me to be the person I am today. Travelling was amusing and I enjoyed change of pace every couple of years, but it wasn’t easy. I learned early on that getting attached to people wasn’t a good idea and should be avoided in preparation for the next move. This led me to being an incredibly shy child who couldn’t open up to people. The world I come from is an adventurous but problematic one. When I concluded making friends would assist with each transition I found myself too terrified to attempt

It was May 23th, 2015, two days before Memorial Day. This weekend was also the Pacesetter Soccer Invitational. It was the 1st game we had played in the tournament and I was going in for a tackle. I put my right foot in front of the ball to get it, and the girl kept going. She knocked me over because she was a lot taller than me (surprise). I hit the ground so hard. She kept dribbling, but I knew I could not give up. I got back I could not catch up with her because there was a shooting pain in my back.

My hands were covered in blood.. It was only a matter of time till they caught me.. I could hear the roaring of the wind. The heavy breathing coming from my own chest.. My stomach ached in pain. I could feel the tears beginning to escape from my eyes...

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The long 172 days had finally passed, and the day I had been waiting for, for months, had finally come. We were in Chicago for my One Direction concert, the day couldn’t have come faster. The agonizingly slow hours that passed that day was too much to bear. Before arriving at Soldier Field, I was highly anticipating meeting one of my closest friends, Jessica, for the first time. It’s actually rather incredible to me, we first were introduced on social media, we didn’t know each other at all, all we knew was that we both loved the same band, and we were both going to the same concert. Prior to meeting for the first time, we were restricted to Skyping each other almost every other day and texting every day.

How do we appreciate our veterans? How do we appreciate our country? Most importantly how do we believe in america? This is what i think…...

As a child of a Vietnam Veteran, I have witnessed my father and go through many things to receive adequate support. My father suffers from progressive prostate cancer, Post-traumatic stress disorder, and a depraved back. These chronic illnesses have forced him to retire early and seek help from the government for financial support. He has repeatedly seek help for the Veteran Affairs applying for unemployment disability and have been turn down several times because his illnesses are considered to be common for Vietnam Vets. This has been hard on my family caring for him and finding an extra source of income to sustain living. Living in a rural area there are no Veteran Affair offices, therefore, we have to travel two and a half hours and

turning my head again I saw Simon dive to my aid. He did not utter a

A Veteran Woman On December 7, 2000, I raised my right hand pledging to serve and protect the American people. At the age of 20, I had entered a 240 year-old organization, not really knowing what to expect from it. I was scared, excited, and ready for the new challenges joining this Armed Forces organization would bring. My basic training was at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. This old country girl from Mississippi had to get on an airplane for the first time. My adrenaline was pumping so fast that I felt my heart could easily jump out my chest at any time. Despite all the insecure reservations I had and the negative comments I received from family and friends back home, I made it through basic training and spent a long, vigorous, and uplifting

I gradually slowed from a run to a walk before coming to a complete stop. I started to listen to my heart instead of my mind as it was corrupted by a fear so profound that it made my blood run cold every time the thought arrived in my head. I never should have left my platoon. It was a mistake. They had always been there for me even when I didn’t think I needed them, but now when they needed me I let them all down. I knew I was weak and that’s why I had run away but it wasn’t my fault that I was here. It wasn’t my decision but the government and its conscription policy. What did the government know about fighting in a war? Why don’t they allow any of their children fight instead of someone else’s? I turned around and started heading back deeper into the jungle that I had come from.

From January 8 to January 10, 2014, the first Wounded Warrior Pacific Invitational was held in Honolulu, Hawaii. Hosted at the Pearl Harbor-Hickam bases, this event included a total of 150 athletes. The Wounded Warrior Pacific Invitational was the largest joint-service competition outside of the annual Warrior Games. At the event, servicemembers from the Special Operations Command, Army, Coast Guard, Navy, Air Force and Marines took part in the various competitions.

Thanksgiving is a week away that's about the only thing on my mind, my dad's mind, my mom's mind, everyone’s mind. Plus my dad just got back home from doing five years in prison, so yea it was something to look forward to, sitting at the table as a complete family again. Anyway we had just picked my dad up from work, that night we ate steak and potatoes, my favorite! It was a school night I had just gotten my school clothes ready and was headed to take my shower. I stopped in my parent’s room, because I saw my dad up getting dressed to go out that night. We talked for a minute or two then he told me goodnight he'll be back, so I continued to do what I was doing. I really had no idea this would be the last time I saw my dad. Around 7 a.m. the

I joined the Marine Corps looking for a challenge. I wanted to open doors for a new career and longed to have a positive impact on the world around me. Looking back five years later, I realize I found all that I originally sought, but I’ve also found something profoundly satisfying and meaningful that I never knew I was missing.