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Personal Narrative: It's Time To Take A Car

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When I started going to high school my mom was the one in charge of picking me up. I told her many times that I could just take the bus home, but she continued to be the first face I saw after school in her car because she liked the alone time we got on the way home. I live exactly thirty-four minutes away from school if I take a car, which seems like a lot of time, but when in my way home with my mom I pray for traffic so I can spend more time with her. In those thirty-four minutes, we laugh so hard that the car shakes, talk about our mundane days, rant about what we hate or just listen to the radios.
When I was in grade ten I had a pretty rough day at school because I got a bad test. I bottled up all my feelings until the end of the day,
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“I’m driving home.” My mom said in a tone like it was obvious.
“Yeah? Where is our home then?” I continued to tease her. I expected her to finally notice where we were and take us home, but her next words were like a sledgehammer hitting me over the head.
She said nothing. The silence that filled the car was so suffocating it felt as if it wrapped itself into a noose around my neck and continued to tighten as the seconds passed by. I know I should have just laughed along with her after she said she was joking and started driving in the direction home, but for the first time, I could see past my mom’s mask. She was worried. The silent moment that filled the car wasn’t for her to say, “just kidding”, but it for to focus on remembering where our family has lived for the past five years. It was for to remember the house we have driven back home to for the past 1 826 days. The home that my mom and I have spent 10 920 hours driving back to from Cedarbrae Collegiate. At that moment one memory slapped me in the face so hard that the truth was now branded on my
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I thought if ignored it and pushed it aside it would just resolve on its own. The fear that consumed me could have caused my mom permanent damage. If ignorance is bliss, that doesn’t mean knowledge is pain, it means knowledge is power. Finally accepting that something was wrong with my mother gave me the power to help her seek medical assistance. This experience taught me that I need to face problems head on and the hardest things to do are the ones with the most valuable
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