Personal Narrative: My Hero's Journey

One weekend, my friend Hannah and I wanted to go on a quad ride during the night. It was during the summer and we were at Hannah’s house and we were bored. So we thought it would be a good idea to go for a ride, so we asked her step dad if we could and he said yes. We both thought it would be super fun to go for a quad ride. So, we get all geared up in proper clothing because it was cold out and off we went.

“For two hours tonight, he sits in between his parents with his arms spread out and draped behind their backs. He holds the tops of each of their heads and they nod and blankly drone on about what a wonder and a gift

Change is inevitable. Whether it be positive or negative, change is constantly happening. More than often change can take you from the known world and spit you into the unknown, where you return a changed person. While embarking on the journeys provoked by change, you are on a hero’s journeys. The hero’s journey was popularized by Joseph Campbell. When describing what prompts hero’s journeys, Joseph Campbell said,

“Dad nods and puts his hand on mine again. He looks at me , steps away, stops, comes back, kisses me on the forehead for the first time in my life and I’m so happy I feel like floating out of the

Zachari's grandmother showed the QP the court documents the probation officer left that reports he has 20 hours of community services, have no contact with the co-defendants, curfew set by the parent, and contact with his probation officer.

Night, with mum and dad huddled on either side of the kitchen table, scribbling on pads of paper, and dad punching in sums on the calculator with his clumsy, blunt fingers. Night, with long discussions in low voices that stopped if we into the room. Night, dad with a fresh beer at his elbow and an empty on the floor beside him, holding onto a flake of chocolate like a cigar, twirling the thing between his thumb and forefinger, crunching onto it and shards flying everywhere. Night, when Mum and Dad had sank what was left of the insurance money and all their savings into a little old town house and a car franchise, signing all the leases, contracts, papers. Night, when Dad was his own boss, answering to no one. And overnight, when the journey abruptly turned its direction. Down in town, a high speed railway station had emerged. But dad couldn’t go anywhere, he was trapped by the crossroads. Juggled a few part time jobs, handy work around town limping in pain. No more notions of independence. All he could do was try his best to make it work. And he did. We even did some paper runs with

One quiet morning I was sitting on my couch playing games when my I heard my dad jingling his key. So I decided to get up and see what or where he was going.

I pulled my hair up into a pony tail and slung my purse over my shoulder before responding to him.

“I wish dad was here” Tom shouted, completely oblivious to just how serious the situation was and it didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon. He smiled innocently and the whole experience reminded him of a trip to Coney Island he had taken with his parents a couple of years earlier. With his arms raised up above his head he began yelling in excitement as though he was on a rollercoaster, looking up to see how long it took for his gloves to turn white.

There is nothing that compares to that last game. It makes no difference how exciting every other game is – that last one-it is like no other. Watching my daughter play the last few seconds of the North Half starter game was both exciting and bittersweet. Yes, there have been many games before leading up to this one, yet, this game seems so different. And, though this game starts the tournament and ends her basketball career, it still represents so much more.

As Greg was walking he saw three skeletons all lined up by the entrance. "Are those real skeletons? Or just there to try to scare us?" Greg whispered.

It was truly a wonderful feeling to have the sun on my back and the wind through my knees. Modesty aside, I could run quite fast for a boy my age. Up and down pastoral yellow hummocks; they were to a field what waves are to an ocean overwrought by an impassioned tempest, and I was a vessel rising and falling at the mercy of its ardent ascendency.

My Hero’s Journey started when I left the comfort of my island home. As I reflect on who I was then and who I am now, I can see that my self-concept, the perceptions that I hold of myself, has evolved over the years (Alder, Rosenfeld, Proctor II, 2013 p. 66). While the “fundamental characteristics of my personality” have stayed the same, I know that the authors of Interplay correctly state that, “however, it is likely that in important ways you are changing- physically, intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually” (p. 72). Through the lessons and skills learned from this class, the way in which I communicate with my family has also undergone change.

There was a knock that made us all jump, I peeked out the window and my insides felt happy. It was my dad, I always chose to

After a while Dad’s phone call ended, and he walked out of the office, smiling.