Personal Narrative: My House By Allison Ree Moga

My mother, Amy Neuzil, has grit because she works hard everyday to get things done. She is the reason the word grit was invented. She stumbles out of bed every day at six a.m. Then she retrieves my sister, Madison, from her sleeping quarters and dresses her in the fanciest get-up you’ve ever seen. While she is completing that task, she also has to dress for work or college. While cramming a turkey sandwich, blueberries, and five or six bulky blocks of frosted plastic ice into a teeny tiny black insulated lunch bag. After she has finished that magic act, she is practically late for whatever she is trying to get to. So, she frantically gathers Madison into the Buick. Then she starts rushing back and forth through the front door, to grab

Sandra Cisneros wrote “A House of My Own: Stories of my life” as her form of an autobiography. "A House of My Own: Stories from My Life" is very much about borders and about houses, particularly "the house one calls the self." It is made up of nonfiction chapters, most of which have previously appeared as book introductions or articles in newspapers and magazines, or were presented in lectures. "My stray lambs". Throughout this passage Sandra Cisneros, shares personal stories about family and “home”. A theme throughout this passage is “home”. Home becomes less associated with her pass book, Mango Street, but more as a metaphor to other developments in her life.

The house was long, white, and had blue shudders. I could always pick out which set of windows out front peeked into my bedroom because of the messy off-white paint stuck to it after years of never being touched up. Inside, so much more was going on than the typical all-American home lead outsiders to believe. Confusion, growth, fear, and lots of aluminum cans.

"You can't keep holding on to stuff like this, James." Natasha sighed, slipping a delicate hand through her hair. "It's not healthy."

You never actually said your name out loud to anyone, and I'm not entirely sure how I managed to find it out in the first place. I'm sure it was through the whisper chains you hear every so often in this cafe. You have a soft voice you know, it's barely audible when you say things, it's not quite what I'd call gruff or gritty, it just has this sort of toughness. It's as though you've steadily built up a defence mechanism in your voice so people don't ask you things you'd rather not answer.

I started walking down the path. I heard the sounds of rattles and I eyed the ground. I'm not in the mood to be bitten by a snake. "Does it feel like I'm going the right way?" I felt a crunch under my foot and shivered. "Yes." I lifted my foot and

The swish of the basket marks another point for my team. We cheer, and I go to high five Lauren who's closest to me.

Out the window and down the fire escape, twenty floors was nothing at this point, and considering police would have to get here and go all the way up to the top, I was in the clear. As I slide down the ladder to the ground, I heard the sirens pulling up in the front, perfect timing, I walked out the alley, taking off my hoodie and slowly joining the crowd forming behind the cop cars. “The best place to hide is in plain sight,” something grandpa told me that I'll never forget, though considering I was a college student with a backpack in New York, blending in was a given. Making my way to the side of the crowd, trying to catch a word of what the officers were saying. “Suspect, average height, weight, witness says all they saw was a shadow going out the window.

Ever since I was a little kid, I have been building things. I was drawn to my dad’s tools, and the spare wood around the house represented something new. Nearly every day I would go down into the basement, for one reason or another, and see the wood, and the heavy drawers where the tools were kept. Occasionally, my dad would have to make small repairs around the house, the kind that all homeowners make. I loved to watch him do these sort of jobs, and sometimes I would get to hold nails and screws, or keep that plywood sheet in just the right place, so he could hammer it in. I was disappointed that I couldn’t help him more. One day, I changed that.

I stood there for a min almost wanting to go back inside because she made me so frustrated trying to explain things when she doesn't listen. Tiffany walked past giving me a look as I sighed shaking my head as Mark patted my back as we both head toward the limo. Jane was fuming mad the trip to the airport making it very awkward and when anybody would say and think dramatically rolling her eyes. Once there Jane was the first person to jump out of the car followed my Tiffany they practically ran to the airport

Rob and Melanie talked all the way to the restaurant. Melanie confessed “I can’t help but be nervous, it’s not every day I’m allowed to share dinner with my grandfather. I believe he is a good person, I can just feel it. Did you feel it too? Or is it wishful thinking?”

Erika Lynn is my Mother. Although she is no longer on this earth she will always be the most important person in my life. She meant everything to me as well as I did to her. In the short time I had with her I thought I learned enough about her to remember for a lifetime. She was beautiful, hard-working and most of all a loving mother.

'I had to brush the snow off of then main door's handles- which I guess was a sick reminder of how people seldom came to visit and seldom got to leave. It was an old building with what I hoped was an outdated sign. The doors were heavy and difficult to pull open, but I hadn't expected anything less. A wave of regret and cold shivers came over me as I took my first step into Winterwood. The air was dry and much hotter than the bus and for a split second I had the urge to turn around to see if it was still there. From the exact moment that I looked upon the sanitarium I had an overwhelming sense of fear. The feeling hasn't gone away since.

July 2nd. Leaving the house in the early morning with the sun barely shining as it is coming out from its hiding place behind the trees, my mother, Magvern (my brother), and I were taken to LA Greyhound station. Walking inside with our luggages tailing behind us, we see families clustering around the ticket and information desk. With our already printed tickets in hand, we walk toward the baggage check before entering the waiting station for the bus. As we wait for our departure, my brother took out his phone and my mom starts to crochet while I am left to my demise. Out of boredom, I start to text my cousins; however, no was awake yet. Staring at the blank screen it felt like hours were passing by. Finally, I saw an icon flashing, Lily was on! The moment did not last

So one day my dad and I get the gun and go outside to the backyard. We find lots of animals there. My dads least favorite animal is the centipede. There are tons of centipedes outside. We also find many mongooses and snakes. We don’t kill the mongooses but we do kill the snakes. I see some snakes when I go to the our rubber