Personal Narrative-My A Ward's Chicken

Thanksgiving Memoir I was waiting in the car my mom was driving. I saw my brother sleeping so I could not play with him so I went back to sleep. My mom was calling” Ben Ben Ben!” I woke up, I was very drowsy It was time to get out of the car. My mom and dad were still waiting for my brother to get out of the car so I just waited. For 5 minutes I stood waiting for my brother to wake up.When my brother finally woke up feeling sleepy we headed to the front door and stepped over the threshold to see my relatives.

At the beginning of this school year, I began to realize something. I realized that my high school years were coming to an end. This was an eye opener for me. I didn't know what to expect of my last year nor what I wanted to do after high school. I then began looking for a job. So I applied to Chick-fil-a. I waited patiently several weeks for a call, but received no call whatsoever. I patiently waited for a new opportunity to come along. Until finally, I was given an opportunity at an electrical shop. On the first day of work I was introduced to the staff and learned the procedures of what needed to be done. My job now was to maintain the shop clean and to keep all materials organized as well as other tasks that helped me grow with my skills.

Having come from a military family; my father, uncles, and many friends, I decided my volunteer agency would be one that involved supporting veterans. I grew up with these organizations being a part of my life; mainly because my father was extremely devoted to one, but I only knew it on the surface—attended a few dinners and dances. I wanted to experience and understand more “behind the scenes” so to speak.

Natasha Romanoff smirks as she watches a wayward demi-god grimace at the sealed package of cup-a-noodles in his hand. He leans a hip against the island counter, habitually feigning nonchalance. However, as an astute student of body language she can read the subtle tension in musculature of his face. She pauses for only an instant at the entryway to observe him, confirming for herself again, that he actually is trying fit in here. She would never presume to mention it to Director Fury, not without a direct inquiry from him, but she had had her own concerns when S.H.I.E.L.D. agreed to take Loki on as part of some sort of Asgardian rehabilitation program. Now she’s less certain of her opinion. Not wanting to be noticed spying, she breezes into the common area and crosses to the refrigerator, perusing the offerings briefly before grabbing a bottled smoothie. She can feel

The swish of the basket marks another point for my team. We cheer, and I go to high five Lauren who's closest to me.

All I did was accidently leave the back door open. Back and forth, and back and forth. Yelling. After what felt like an hour she remembered we are above Floral Smiles, our flower shop that makes me feel sick, and she yells at me again for yelling.

Abbey Bominable rubbed her eyes, stretching as the warm sunlight washed over her through the apartment window. As she brushed some wisps of hair from her face, she noticed Heath whispering something very quietly. Brow furrowing, she sat up, seeing that Heath had brought their baby boy into bed with them. Heath was trying to get Icer to smile, something the little baby had recently started doing. However, Icer just stared at his father curiously and tried to stick his fingers into his mouth. Abbey smiled, stroking Icer's head lovingly.

“I Allen Moira, take you Cecillia to be my wife. I promise to cherish you for all my days. I vow to live for you, and do everything I can to ensure your happiness. No matter how dark things may become I promise to be your light that leads you to safety. I love you, Cecilia. Do you accept me as your husband?”

It's the smell that hits you first. As you lug open the big and awkward, reddish-brown-painted door decorated with its tired hinges, that creak like the moaning of difficult and crabby old men, a puff of the sweet, old and bad-smelling odor of last summer's straw presses from your first, slow breath into your nose. Then you detect the undertones: the hot and humid, snobby musk of animal fur and the sharp smell of old, oily metal and machinery. Soon after the smell, your eyes make up for the dim paleness of light, and you begin to make out the shapes of dusty frames of wooden stalls and poles, and the heavy chest of the loft that hangs from the ceiling.

The bus creaking to a stop makes me cringe. Not only does the sound hit that spot in my neck just right, but it also forces me back to reality. Back to what’s about to happen.

“Guys, guys, there is a huge bird over there. Look, up there!” My sister, Lika, and our neighbor, Selena turn their heads simultaneously. I see the fierce beast perched upon the brick roof of another house. The bird stretches its wings, claims the sky as its domain, and demands that its presence be felt. At the sight of bird, we all become silent, observing all of the bird’s features. I believe it is a peregrine falcon. This prediction came directly from watching that majestic, world’s fastest bird in my favorite show, Wild Kratts, and unfortunately, I was wrong. Afterwards, Selena confidently points out the bird’s radiant, amber beak and therefore, believes it is an eagle. I have no rebuttal.

“What did you just say?” Dad asked panicked from Grenada. Cars drove past our house slowly as the passengers gawked at the torn apart shop. As I rolled out of bed at 10:30 on February seventh, I realized that you can’t be prepared for everything that happens in your life.

Edward stood up from the table, walked a few paces towards the exit and placed a hand on Tabitha’s shoulder. He turned and stared at the men and women seated in front of him.

I wake up, I feel around for my glasses. Aha, there they are! I wrap my fingers around them before bringing them towards my head. I use my old brittle fingers to fold out the legs before sliding the legs through my hair to tuck behind my ear, and the frames up my nose. I sit up in bed, feeling for the clock, I press the worn down button. “7:58 a.m. on May 2nd. Real feel is 68 degrees” says the clock. I sigh, today it has been six years since they left.

Even though my parents were transitioning from a life overseas, their children’s education was their first priority. My parents fought tirelessly to have my sister and me transferred out of the school where most of the other students on the base went. Somehow the schools were ten minutes apart, but on opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of success, socioeconomic status, and race. Our transfer was accepted based on our minority-to-majority status and a letter from my father’s General. After watching my parents constantly fight for us, I became aware from an early age that it is my responsibility to take advantage of the opportunities I have been provided and to work towards creating opportunities for others. My commitment to service led to me being elected student body president in the sixth grade until I left Louisiana. During high school in Texas, I become a peer and elementary school mentor. I continued to extend my service throughout my undergraduate career as an intern at the Alamo City Black Chamber of Commerce and a non-profit youth organization. Currently, I serve as President of a funded startup focused on promoting diversity and entrepreneurship among San Antonio’s