Personal Narrative: Little A

I am a first generation child to have been born in my family, the first generation who is about to graduate high school and the first generation to go to a college and succeed in life.

Growing up is very difficult. It takes time and responsibility that I thought I had. This summer I quickly realized that becoming an adult is not as easy as a person may think. I had to travel to Oxford for a day by myself, and I learned several lessons such as: always pay attention while driving, make sure to park in appropriate places, and be very cautious while driving in the rain.

Just as the elevator door started to close, several young girls wearing black leotards and sporting bright pink jackets jumped in. The bedazzled dance logo on the back of their jackets with the emblazed word Middletown Dance caught our attention. Before we could ask them a question, the elevator had reached the ground floor.

Watching her coffin sink into the abyss beneath my feet sent me into hysterics. Tears streamed down my face like a ferocious river escaping a dam. I’d come to the realization that I had never lived my life without her. What would I do? It is obvious to me now that I inadvertently disrupted the entire service with my loud sobbing, but in that moment of time, it was the only thing I could do.

A long time ago back in Alton where I used to live there was going to be a big change for me. I was little didn't remember much, but i do remember the move van. I remember the men carrying my things rom the car to the house. Me and my father were standing out side, he got me villanelle ice cream and I was trying to make it last on that hot summer day. “Dad why did we leave our home?” I asked with ice cream running down my hand. H said “ We didn’t leave our home, home is where your family is.” I realized that day that we didn't leave our home, home is where you make it.

“Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken in the early hours of the morning by a loud, hooting noise from his nephew Harry’s room.” — these are the words that framed my childhood. Unlike other children, who were raised to spend time playing outside, I was raised alongside a young British wizard with a scar on his forehead and a penchant for finding trouble. Of course, the adventures of Harry Potter are not actually fact; however, to a boy gleefully resting on his mother’s lap their authenticity was never in question. I can still remember so many things about the way that she would read to me on those lazy Sunday afternoons. Entranced by her soft voice rising and falling as each syllable passed over her lips, I sat and dreamed for endless hours.

In everybody’s life there is a point of your life where we have to grow up a little and be more responsible than before. When it was my time to grow up a little bit more I was only a 11 years old, I had to start to mature a little bit more and be able to watch my little brothers and stay home alone. Before this would take place my twin and I would have to prove ourselves to are parents that we are capable to watch ourselves.

To me, a good story has an interesting plot, complex characters, supporting details, and, of course, proper grammar and spelling. I usually get lost in a good book and can tell that I’m really enjoying a story when I feel I’m in the world the author creates. When I look up, back to reality, I want to return straight away. I always look forward to continuing the story and never want it to end.

It was a bright, sunny day and I was eating pizza inside with my beautiful girlfriend. We were trying out a brand new restaurant in Stuyvesant Plaza called Blaze Pizza. It was very good, crispy, thin pizza. She got pepperoni on hers and I got pepperoni, jalapenos, and artichokes on mine. Yum. After that awesome meal we were looking for something to do. Luckily, our friends Lindsay and Chris wanted to hangout. Chris and Lindsay are really smart, nice, and adventurous people. I’d like to think Sarah and I are that way too, but I’m not that smart. We get along with them really well and enjoy spending time with them. Chris recommended we go to a waterfall close to Rensselaer, which sounded like a good plan to us. Chris picked us up at my house,

A few days ago my mom told me I was supposed to be a December baby, but I am a October baby. I was born two months early. When I was born my skin was yellow. I had to be wrapped in a blue blanket that made me light up blue. Its called a Bilirubin blanket.The doctors said I was Jaundice. My mom and I had to stay in the Hospital for a few days to recover. Even though I was born very early I was still very healthy. I still am.

There are a countless amount of times where my mother would give the justification of “you are a girl, it’s different you have to take care of yourself”. As a child I thought that this was just another thing parents would say to get their young girls to do or agree to what they wanted, kind of like the “because I said so” excuse. Now that I am a young adult, venturing away from home and getting a taste to what adult life is, this saying has taken on a different meaning to me.

Yesterday, I bought myself a mattress. It was the first time in about 3 months that I got to lay on an actual bed. I was finally able to sleep throughout the whole night without having to get up every two hours to pump the small inflatable bed, which, by the way, my cat popped. Even with pumping it, the bed quickly deflated and I’d wake up basically on the floor. I never thought I’d be so grateful over a bed. Something that at some point, I found to be some of the “little things” in my life that I honesty never even thought I would be without.

Growing up yes it happens to everyone. Each one of us grow like a rose from a seed to a blossomed beauty. As i was blossoming i realized that i didn't just grow up like that. Each day was a new adventure . All of us has had a few days that are still yet proud of to have accomplished. I as well had many successes throughout growing up

This applies to me while I was growing up. When I was little, and my tummy was hurting a lot, my mom would touch it. If it felt hard to her, then she would use one of her Indian remedies of mixing various thing until it made this paste. You apply the paste to your stomach for a few hours and then shower to take it of. I would do this lot when I was a child because that’s what my mom told me and I knew it worked. As I got older, I would tell my friends and they all thought I was so weird because they have never heard of it. For me, it is something my grandparents did, my parents did and something I plan on doing with my kids. It is part of my culture and just because it is not part of everyone else culture, does not mean my mom was physically

I was embarrassed, feeling pain, watching everyone’s eyes looking at me, and knowing something wasn’t right. I could tell that my knee wasn’t normal. I left the door thinking it was going to be an awesome day, but did not expect the unexpected.