Personal Narrative: My Dad Changed My Life

“There seemed to be nothing to see; no fences, no creeks or trees, no hills or fields. If there was a road, I could not make it out in the faint starlight. There was nothing but land…I had never before looked up at the sky when there was not a familiar mountain ridge against it. But this was the complete dome of heaven, all there was of it. I did not believe that my dead father and mother were watching me from up there; they would still be looking for me at the sheep-fold down by the creek…. I had left even their spirits behind me. The wagon jolted on, carrying me I knew not whither. I don't think I was homesick. If we never arrived anywhere, it did not matter. Between that earth and that sky I felt erased, blotted out. I did not say my prayers that night: here, I felt, what would be would be.” This new surrounding is the beginning of an adventure for

Growing up I was extremely close to my father. He was always a tough guy to please, and I aspired to impress him and be the daughter he wanted me to be. Little did I know, my father would end up breaking my heart, and be responsible for tearing my family apart.

The Birth of my first, Jayden, was pretty normal, and he was on time. I was in labor for

Venezuela is just another chapter in my on going book. I was born in Tamaulipas, Mexico my home country and got moved 3 months later to New Orleans. It was uncommon for a mexican family to move so constantly all over the world, we are known to migrate to US or not migrate at all. I don’t remember New Orleans so I regarded to my next move, Colombia as my home. Colombia was everything a 4 year old wanted, friends, close to family, wonderful house and most importantly the school was accepting to others. I felt as if I belonged, I even sang the national anthem with pride, because it was my country. I knew Colombia inside out, I knew the language, culture, food, education which gave me comfort because for a long time I felt ordinary like any

After bandaging her hand, she threw on a clean blouse, buttoning it all the way to the collar. She grabbed the bloodstained letter from top of her dresser, using it as a dustpan to scoop the broken mirror into the bathroom trash can. Exhausted she closed the lid and sat on the toilet seat. She traced her name written on the front of the letter with her index finger. Shocked by the news of his senseless death, she had refused to open Marcum’s letter. Now she wondered what would have happened if she had said “yes” to his proposal. She wouldn’t be in this financial mess. She’d have a beautiful home and wouldn’t be facing life alone. She wouldn’t have to worry about how she was going to feed her children. She turned the envelope over. “I wonder if he left me any money?” She slipped her long fingernail into the corner of the envelope ready to tear it open—then

My dad is driving all the way to Minnesota to get a motorcycle. At least, that’s what I thought. He woke me and my brother up and showed us a picture of a motorcycle. To be honest, I thought that was what we were actually getting because we didn’t have any suitcases so it wasn’t a surprise vacation. I didn’t know we were getting a kitten. I did ask for one more than 5 times. My mom did show me a picture of a kitten that was ready to be adopted. Ok, I’m finished talking.

Well, if you'll pardon my saying so, I guess it is interesting, the many ways you and I overlap and whatnot. You begin with our Daddies. Your daddy was a pastor of the New Hope Baptist Church; my daddy was a pastor of a church at Excelsior Springs. Um. You're the youngest of the three James boys; I'm the youngest of the five Ford boys. Between Charley and me, is another brother, Wilbur here, with six letters in his name; between Frank and you was a brother, Robert, also with six letters. Robert is my Christian name. You have blue eyes; I have blue eyes. You're five feet eight inches tall. I'm five feet eight inches tall. Oh me, I must've had a list as long as your nightshirt when I was twelve, but I've lost some curiosities over the years.

a choked sob escaped my throat as i curled up on the empty bed, the ache in my chest not seeming to calm down. i felt so alone, and so wrong. he wasn't here anymore, and i wasn't able to talk to him. he was the only one who knew that i was transgender, and he seemed to be he only person who could cheer me up when i needed it.

When I was eight years old, I realized I was slightly different from my dad, but very similar. My dad, and my brother, and I were sitting upstairs in our room and my dad said, “I’m gonna draw something for you guys to guess.” So my brother and I sat there waiting and watched him draw it. My brother and I were interested and what he was drawing and we really liked it. My dad made sure the drawing was well done so we could all guess what it was. He was getting close to the end and me and my brother kept trying to guess it and have fun with it. It took a minute for my brother and I to guess it, but when we finally got it is when I realized I wasn't talented at drawing like my dad and I don't like to draw as much as him. Although I had fun with him, we are very different.

The passing of my father has significantly helped shape who I am today, as it has prepared me to take leadership positions. Prior to Dad's death, I stayed home and did little community involvement. After his passing, I realized I wanted to be active in extracurricular activities and take advantage of the opportunities I had access to. As a result, I joined the Clinton County 4-H Wranglers, a club where I am an active member and have been Secretary for the past three years. My membership in 4-H has granted me workshops for self-improvement (such as Officer Training and Showmanship), contests to compete in (from the individual-based Hippology contest to the team-structured Horse Bowl competition), and opportunities to give back to the nearby

One way that my parenting has changed is that I have added more rules that I expect Finley to follow. Finley told me one day that I have more “rules” than other kids’ parents. Finley is usually in a good mood and has a cheerful personality. She tends to use humor to deal with stress or shrugs off little upsets that happen throughout her life. Even though it happens rarely, she does come across a problem that gets her upset. When this happens, I make sure to sympathize with her by giving her a hug, and showing that I will listen to Finley whenever she wants to talk about these problems. I let her know that she can solve these problems on her own if she wants to spend time alone to think about the problems or she can always come to me to talk

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?”

My grandpa, Frank, looks very tough and as some would say manly. My grandpa has a very masculine build. Even though my grandpa comes across as somewhat of a hard-ass, he is actually one of the most loving and sensitive people I know. He is one of those people that cry really easily, and at almost every family gathering he tears up. It was the day before opening day of deer hunting 2014. That day was a very snowy and windy day. My grandpa and I were driving up to our hunting cabin in Forbes, MN. The conditions were horrible for driving and very unsafe. The conditions caused us to have to drive very slowly, and the normally three-hour drive took us over four hours. The dive is not a very eventful and is very dull drive. About half way through our drive I remember one conversation that we had that will always stick with me. My grandpa tells me that the reason that he had built an amazing hunting cabin was for us the grandkids. He says “I hope and

What keeps me up at night is how privileged I am. My father grew up in a very poverty stricken town, Guanajuato. Even though his family owned a great deal of land to cultivate fruits, they were barely able to make ends meet. My Grandma and father would have to wake up at 5 am to walk all the way to the other side of town and then catch a bus to a nearby town, Celaya, to sell what they had harvested. While there, my father would go to a nearby wasteland to find any old toys or clothes others had thrown out. This was a continuous thing until my dad, at the age of 15 decided to come to the United States, with nothing else other than a few extra pairs of raggedy clothes, that he had gotten from the wasteland. My father stayed in Texas to help provide

I am shock by what I am seeing now. I find myself flying in the middle of the boundless sky like an eagle. The beauty of the earth is all under my eyes now. I can see the greenish forests, the giant mountains, the empty lands, and the busy cities that are far away. But the most beautiful thing is the blue sky itself where I am in. Suddenly the next moment, I was standing on the roof of a 100-stories tall skyscraper while enjoying my expensive wine and the landscape of the city. When I look down, although I am scared of heights, I see the miniature of pedestrians and cars that are moving around. Travelling in an imagination world is probably the most joyful thing to do in the life. I don’t where I will be next yet, but it will come to my mind when it is the right time.