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Personal Narrative: My American Dream

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I wake to the sound of harsh car horns and street vendors yelling at tourists to buy their “limited edition” bobble heads of our president Donald Trump VIII. What a way to wake up. Back home I was greeted with the crash of sleepy morning waves and calls of the seagulls letting me know it was morning. Carlsbad was where I grew up for the seventeen years I have been alive and planned to spend the rest of my life. That dream was crushed when Trump decided to start testing his nuclear weapons off the coast of California to show off his power to North Korea. The toxic waste became so great that everyone living on the West Coast had to move inland. My dad John applied to work as a secret service agent to the president when we realized there was a …show more content…

“Bye Reya! I love you!” my mom calls. I run back inside and give my mom and brother a big hug and kiss.
“I love you too,” I whisper because with everything going, this could be the last time I see my family.
I walk the one block from my house to the White House and check in. The days go by relatively fast. I have a script I tell the tourists while guiding them through the White House and each tour is about an hour. I get one break at twelve o’clock for lunch then return to work by one. I have two more tours after I eat then I start my one block treck home.
By the time I make it home, I am sweating bullets from the hot summer sun. I walk into my cool, air conditioned home with a sigh of relief finally being out of the scorching sun. “How was work?” my mom asks. “Anything interesting happen …show more content…

My nose fills with the sensational smell of garlic bread as I bound down the stairs. My dad just got home from work and I greet him with a massive hug. Dinner is just about ready so my brother and I set the table. My mom, dad, brother, and I sit down and begin eating our spaghetti dinner. We sit in the sad, scared silence we usually do ever since we moved here.We all know that we wish we were still in Carlsbad with the rest of our family and that with everything going on there’s nothing we can do to change that. So, we sit in silence because we are also tired of hearing about how close we are to nuclear war. Then out of nowhere my brother slings a fat meatball at me from across the table. For the first time in a long time, I can hear the cackle of my mom and dad’s laughter that sounds like music to my ears. The table erupts with laughter and I can feel the mood of my whole entire family shift back to the happy easy going people that I know and love. For the first time since we moved here, I thought I could actually get used to living here with my one of a kind family. Then the bomb sirens go off, only this time we can see the bright balls of light headed our

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