Personal Narrative: My Abuela's House

In El Dorado California, once called Mud Springs, lived two twin sisters Elisa and Elizabeth. These 11 year olds lived with their grandmother Myra whom took care of them since they were 4 years of age after their parents passed away in a tragic car accident. They lived humbly in a small log cabin. Elisa and Elizabeth’s favorite pass time was to play in the forest; they loved acting and playing as magicians attempting to do magic tricks.

On Monday 6/29/2015 Sgt. Alexander and I was dispatched to the Hostess House located at 6741 Highway 70 in reference to 2 subject, Mr. Burnette and Mr. Jacobs that were renting room 251 and had outstanding warrants.

I always told my parents that if either of them died while I was younger, I wanted to be adopted by my other mother: Jody Harvey. For the past fifteen years, Jody and her family have become a second family to my sister and I. In retrospect, she has been a positive influence in various aspects of my life—whether it was from our tight nit home-school group, to religious 0awareness, to folk music, or eating foreign southern cooking. It is evident that what little southern culture that has infiltrated my life takes root from her. Mrs. Jody is a fifth generation southerner, and native to Winston-Salem, North Carolina. Growing up she indulged and found importance in family, adventuring the outdoors, and music.

The Hadley’s owned a completely automated house with a nursery that is proficient at projecting thoughts into the real world. Over time, the parents, George and Lydia, noticed Peter and Wendy were spending a large portion of their time in the playroom. In response, the parents began to restrict Peter and Wendy from The Veldt. The action caused the children’s thoughts to progressively become more and more malevolent. Peter and Wendy overcame their issue by murdering their parents to regain their nursery. Challenges not only occur in literature, but also appear in real

Someone broke into my car and about $400 worth of cash and items were stolen.

On April 1, 2000, I was placed into a group home because of my behavior at the home. My dad and I didn’t get along. So he sent me to a placed called Bowman House. When I arrived there the first person I met was a lady name Alexander, she begin showing me around the units. Alexander was called the granny of the units. It was two units for the boys and girls. She took me to the boys unit first to look at the units. After I looked at the boys unit she took me to the girls unit. Where I would be staying. I had the chance to bond with Alexander, it wasn’t something I was trying to do it just happen. I had to stay with Alexander until the staff came back from picking the other peers up from school. An hour pass and the peers came back I had to go

Wanna play?” I inquired. At first, the three children just looked at me as if I was crazy, then they all stood up, and I threw the basketball to one of them. Soon after, more children began to peek out of their apartments and make their way over to us to join in on the playing. Mostly, the children were African American with heavy accents that sounded Jamaican or African. The children who came out ranged from age three all the way up to thirteen or fourteen years old. The little girls made bracelets of all different colors by tying together pipe cleaners and using beads to decorate them. The boys loved the balloons and the sports. Later on, as I was playing basketball again, I noticed a boy run off to the sidewalk on the edge of the parking lot. As he was running off he yelled, “Time out for me man! Be right

and Mrs. Blanker with their four children; Martin; the eldest son, Kokkie and Lia; blond curly haired twin girls, who appeared to be approximately our age and Jenneke; a younger sister. Fortunately the Blanker parents didn't seem to mind that their daughters played with us, even allowed them to cross the street to play on our side. Consequently, even though it took years, the other parents gradually realized that no harm was going to come to their children if they played with us and eventually allowed them to do the same. In due course, my sister and I had a group of “white” friends. We roller-skated together, drew chalk pictures on the sidewalk and fished in the canal with a fishing pole we made from an open safety pin, fastened to the end of a long string, tied to a broom stick. On the grass field behind our house, we pitched tents with two long poles which we pushed into the earth, suspended a clothesline between them and draped a white sheet over the line. During summer days, we played for hours, until from the bedroom window, our mother announced that it was time to eat lunch. We ran upstairs, gobbled down a cheese-and-jam sandwich and guzzled down a glass of chocolate milk, eager to resume playing with our

A few years ago, a friend of mine named Angela, invited me to her family’s Thanksgiving. The invitation was offered for the sole reason that she did not wish to be alone with her cousin, who to her and to her parent’s was a corrupting influence. An agreement was struck and my mother and I drove to the camp where it was to be held and sojourned for the night. Upon our arrival it was just Angela’s immediate family and us, and even when her cousin arrived, we avoided her. However, in the morning the situation changed. Not only had Angela’s friend, Christian, who I was not expecting, arrived, but Angela’s parents convinced Angela to spend time with her cousin. This transmuted the entire dynamic of the environment.

It was just a normal school day, Friday, January 22, 2016. I was excited for Jessah’s party and I just wanted to go to Kaelyn's house because she was my ride. The school day was going by really slow, but I got through it.

Laughter, the sound of arabic spoken on the tv, the scent of freshly baked bread, and board games being played in the living room. This was the average day at my grandmother’s home, the home I basically grew up in. I believe I was very fortunate to be raised the way I was, in a small city in Oregon, named Tigard. I had a home, food, an opportunity to get an education, and a family coming from a Middle Eastern culture. I believe the most essential piece of my childhood was growing up so close to family. I spent nearly as much time at my grandparents’ house with my cousin as I did at home. Our parents were out working all day so it was here that we had our childhood escapades in the backyard, in the street, and hiding in garbage cans (that’s another story). My grandmother basically raised us herself, and loved us like we were her own children. As a kid I believed everyone deserved to be treated the way my grandma treated us, and I still do.

My family that is living in Canada contains 5 individuals; my two parents, an older brother at the age of 18, and a younger sister at the age of 13. These individuals in my family are constantly talking to me at a daily basis so they’re probably one of the top most important part of my life. The most recent vacation that we travelled to was Pakistan in the summer, which was in the month of August. To represent this bond, I drew a game of us playing monopoly that I was, and still am a fan of since my childhood years.

My mother’s law partner, Jennifer, owns a house passed down by her father that he built just north of Trinidad, California. This oceanfront home is a decidedly significant aspect of my life because of its location in the heart of the pacific northwestern wilderness. From my plethoric amount of sojourns to Trinidad and even one short-term residence at this house, I have developed a deep connection with nature and become enamored with everything Humboldt County offers, from golfing in the redwoods to hiking at Patrick’s Point State Park. Jennifer’s house introduced me to nature and forged my belief of the necessity to save it.

Reporter stated the following: The same thing is going on. Somebody down the road told me thst she is staying at her house and with her dad with my daugther. The mom has no running water. She has not had running water for 2 or 3 months. She went to my stepmom’s house to take a shower. She probably does not have running water on. the house has mold. The roof in the house leaks bad. She still smokes marijuanna around my child. The last time she smoked marijuanna around my child was before she went to jail. She went to jail on March 5th. I was told that the mom had done crystak meth and crack. I do not know if she is doing crystal meth ot crack noe but I reported it.

On the wood floors of a petite brick house, I was Southern Indiana raised. I have moved five times, but that house undoubtedly built me. It carries lessons and hardships with loved ones that shaped my life.