Personal Narrative: My Dad

Annoyed at this, I turned once again and lay on my back. I took a deep

Imagine being on the back of an older brother's bike, arms hugging his chest tightly and flying down a hill, wind flowing through hair billowing out behind and lungs sore from shouting for joy. The next day is made up of begging for a bike and the passion to be the same one flying down that hill, wheels turning too fast to see and the landscape shooting by too fast to make out more than a blur. Soon, a bike is given with a bow on top, cherry red and oh, so beautiful. The next week is spent learning how to ride it; falling down, trying to balance, falling down again, and still, can't balance. Finally, enough practice allows the freshly polished cherry red bike to perch at the top of the hill, an eagle ready to fly, and then down it goes, seemingly soaring over the pavement.

Ever since I was a little girl, I always loved going to work with my Dad. My Dad is the fleet owner of a trucking company in Cabot, AR. I remember when we would pull into the truck yard and take inventory of the 18-wheelers and trailers left on the yard.

No one knows the story behind why my dad is such a horrible. You've only heard bits and parts of the story that are easy for me to explain. They don't make me tear up because I know that nothing is ever going to change. There're some parts in the story that make me frustrated and tear up and those are the parts that I hate to share. I just have to be strong enough and courageous enough to tell the parts that hurt the most. I share my feelings about my dad on this blog to vent and to show you that through difficult times you're not alone. Sometimes you feel like you're trapped in a dark hole and you can't get out. The truth is you can get out. Look for the light at the end of the dark hole. There is light somewhere you can't be stuck in the dark for the rest of

Have you ever wondered who these people are that keep you safe everyday? My dad was one of them. He was in the Michigan State Police for twenty-seven years. He has helped save the lives of many people.He started working in the MSP even before he met my mom. He eventually married her and was working nights.He worked everynight to protect us. You. Everyone. Every night, when you were asleep, he was out working. Working to protect you. When he had a kid, my brother Logan, he was still working nights. He had to move from place to place, taking his family with him so he could do his job. When something bad happened, he was there to protect you. Even when you wanted to hide in your house and not come out, he was there to protect you. My dad is an amazing person. This is why my dad is my Michigan Hero.

Beep!beep!beep! The sound of my alarm clock ringing at 5:00 o'clock in the morning, bringing me back from a deep sleep. Realizing that today is another day of working with my dad in the hot steaming sun for continuous long hours. Growing up in my teenage years I've always been spoiled and I never really knew how hard my dad had worked as an electrician and to keep a roof under our heads. My dad worked more than 60 hours a week and took care of 5 people in his family. I've always been given designers shoes to high-end brand clothing to even a 400 dollar watch. Pretty spoiled huh ? Not many kids get to have the things I have and I've always took life for granted .i started working with my dad in the beginning of this summer and it's been the

“Prove them wrong” When I was in fourth grade my dad and brother and I were playing basketball at our house, to help my brother practice. I had never played basketball except against my brother, Brayden. My dad would always be our referee and it was a lot of fun. Even though I never beat Brayden. Brayden didn’t think I was very good, and he would have to play easy on me instead of playing as well as he could have played. It really annoyed me I wanted to be as good as him or better because I wanted to actually have a chance to be better than him at one sport.

"Victoria! Don't forget to pack, it's your dads weekend." My mom shouted across the hallway in our house. My parents have been divorced since before I was born so every time my father was in town I'd visit him. When I was younger, I would always ask my dad if I could spend the night at my cousins house since they were from his side of his family and that was the only time I could see them. Afterwards it became a routine going over to their house, little by little I hated going there but I was left in silence. One night, my cousin Emily went out with her friends and I was left to sleep alone in her room. As I was slowly falling asleep, I heard the door creek open and quietly shut closed... I quickly awaken, my heart beats as if it is about to pop out of my chest, I weep as movements get closer and he says "shhh.." There he was, beside me gliding his fingers down my belly to places his hands shouldn't be.

If there was one thing that my father made sure I experienced from a young age, it was hard work. When he first traveled to this country, the only thing to his name was his suitcase and a handful of money. Shortly after when I was born, he worked from the ground up to ensure I had a good upbringing. When I graduated high school, he didn't have the money to send me to college, and I didn't want to be snared by student loans, so I had to find another way. I wanted to work for everything that I earned, so I joined the military.

“La la la!” I was running around my room dancing to Kidz Bop on Pandora. My blonde hair half up half down.

In 2005, it was 75 degrees in Tampa, Florida and my dad, sister, and I were at the beach. I was only eight years old and I felt relaxed. Growing up in Florida was tough because it was only my dad that took care of us. Every morning he wakes up at 6 A.M, makes his coffee, wakes my sister and I up, makes breakfast, and bring us to day care. Since my mom was not around it was difficult for him, being a single parent trying to make means for his family. Just like in “Aunt Alice vs. Bob Marley,” Kareem Kennedy’s aunt describes her parents as “hard workers.” She said, “Mom didn’t have to work, but she chose to work because she wanted to make sure we had everything. They always made sure we had a decent meal.”

One bright early morning on the field of the 2015 Annual Wiffle Ball Championship laid the bright golden trophy next to the pitcher's mound. The sun glared at the trophy in joy leaving the bright beams of light reflecting into the eyes of the players. As I was on the field I heard the loud smashing voice of the opponent's team line-up harshly told by the coach. By the sound of his voice he seemed determined to win the trophy. I then turned to look at my dad playing 3rd and he said with a soft voice ¨be patient¨. At the time I was eager to get a hold of the wiffle ball. Finally the inning was over. As I went back to

My life is very common with the story I tracked my phone my dad’s phone my mom’s phone and my sisters phone. Some of the story is very similar and some of it is not similar at all.

I grew up being the first ever kid to “not have a dad.” My classmates questioned me in ignorance, wondering how I was ever created without a father of my own. This is because I was taught by those around me, at the young age of six, to always reply “I don’t have one,” when asked, “Where’s your dad?”

On a Saturday, at 6:30 in the morning most teenagers would be exercising their privilege to sleep in to an absurd hour. Not me though. On this Saturday I was awake and tingling with excitement. That would be the first day I would be able to ride my bike in its pristine condition. As the sun had only just peeked over the horizon I realized that it would be necessary for me to wait until the day had progressed further. Netflix seemed an easy way to pass the time, so I used this and caught up with my favorite Netflix shows. It felt as if only about an hour had passed, but in reality I had watched nearly four hours of pointless television. The day had shaped up nicely, a warm July morning. Clouds scattered across the sky and a slight breeze to knock the temperature down just a little. A perfect day for a little bike ride. The urge to ride had taken over. I dressed myself, taking into account the deep pockets in my shorts necessary for holding my phone without the possibility of it falling out, brushed my teeth and headed downstairs. To start the journey of a bike ride that taught me that exercise is not a burden, but something to enjoy while trying to better myself.