Personal Narrative Of My Family

I asked my mom “what’s wrong,” she replied with a sorrowful “your Aunt Lisa is in trouble, we must leave now.” The worst part of all of this was my Aunt Lisa’s son was with us, Matthew. He did not know what to think or believe. No one knew the world would slowly start shattering beneath all of us that morning. We drove to her house, we saw ambulances and police cars driving by, that did not help our nerves at all. We finally arrived at her apartment, we never thought all of those emergency vehicles would be going there. My brother and I stay in the car since I was only eight and he was only eleven. My mom and cousin run into the apartment hoping to only find my Aunt had fallen and is unconscious, or she is passed out drunk, just let it be something that is not permanent. What they come to find is that my Aunt is laying on the floor, unconscious, but cold as ice. It was not from someone killing her, or us getting there too late. She had died twenty-four minutes before that phone

I am a daughter, I am both an older and younger sister, I am a student and I am Brazilian. I`m not only what I do but also where I came from. Moving in to United States only reassured me what I learned from my country is still running in my veins. Once you are immersed in another `world` you not only have a main perception of the difference between cultures but it also makes you see with other eyes what is presented to you; that, is a completely break of pattern, an experience of dissemination and absorption of knowledge - a continuously critical thinking.

My family has lived here in Oregon since the before the war between the states, and family tells us stories of the good times before all these japs started taking over. Around the turn of the century or so it started to seem like these people were everywhere. It all started with the building of the railroad. The companies brought in those people to build the railroad, and now that the railroad is completed they will not leave. To make matters even worse there is an effort by their leaders to get them to strike for the same pay as us white people that work for the railroad. There has been extremely little or no effort on their part to become like us Americans. I was walking through town the other day and what did I see, there was a huge Buddha statue in front of a new Buddhist temple. They can't even go to church like regular people.

My research family consists of five family members. Tanya is a 45-year-old African American woman; who works as a homemaker and provides beauty assistance to her local neighbors, such as being a make-up artist and a hair beautician. Tanya was raised in Louisiana in a single parent household, she has no recollection of her father nor did her mother ever mention his name. Her mother had a gambling problem, Tanya remembered her mother once gambling her brand new silver necklace her grandmother bought for her as a gift. At 17 Tanya went to live with her grandmother and refused to speak to her mother again. Mrs. Bell (Tanya’s grandmother) was on a fixed income and taking care of Tanya only added stress to the situation. “I couldn’t be a burden

I ran in the house, my mom and dad was still in the kitchen, I peeked around the corner but I didn’t want to be around anyone. I stormed to my bedroom because nothing felt right. As I stormed in my bedroom I wiped the tears from my eyes. I took my clothes off, turned off my lights and balled up under my covers. I was laying in bed boohoo crying. I cried so much that my eyes were puffy and red, I couldn’t help myself I felt and wanted to be alone. I remember my cousin coming in my room asking me if I were okay but i didn’t reply. I was so hurt to the point that my body wouldn’t allow me to talk. She laid there with me but I was angry. I started hitting the walls because I needed answers. My eyes were all out of cries and it was 4 A.M. I finally went to sleep. I tossed and turned but my alarm went off. It was 5:30, I had 30 minutes to be to work. I stormed out of bed into the bathroom. I turned the lights on and did my morning routine. I got to work at 5:55 but I sat in my car until it was 6:00. Five minutes went by and I questioned god again. I knew it was a better way. I didn’t want to accept it but my cousin is really gone. I walked into work silently but that didn’t last long. I kept going back and forth to the bathroom, I even cried at work. This was too much i couldn’t handle it. I felt the walls closing down on me. The pain was so real, and I was so hurt that I couldn’t think anymore.That night/morning I

After the world war 2 my family from turkey (my grandma's parents) decided that they are going to immigrate to Israel because in this time a lot of Jewish people started to immigrate to Israel. They had a really good chance to move to Israel. All the Jewish people knew that the big ship coming to Israel and that’s their chance to start new life. They went into the big ship and they already knew that the british people (Who ruled Israel) might catch them, but they decided to take a risk. When they arrived in Israel the british people caught them and all the other people in the ship and took them to a really big labor camp in Cyprus for eight months, from their stories it sounds like a jail. They

THIS CAR RIDE WASN’T WORTH IT. There is no way my grandpa is going anywhere near the speed limit but thirty miles per hour slower. That car ride was taking FOREVER. My grandpa and grandma only play the Christian station and wouldn’t even think about kids bop or Disney. Instead of my mom and dad coming home, we only got to visit them for a bit which was a weird vacation to me. My sister and I were two tic tac toe games from jumping out of the window. When we finally got to the city my Grandma pulled me aside and told me to not be too loud, not to expect dad to talk much, and that he is going to look different but still the same. I didn’t understand what she meant but all I craved was to be reunited with them again. We walked in the soaring building and went into one my favorite rides, the elevator. I clicked a bunch of buttons just to see the lights spark up. I only got a few before my grandpa scolded me not to. The sweet ding filled my ears and the doors separated. MOM! I saw her and took off in a sprint before anyone could hold me back. She walked into a room and I took a sharp turn to follow. When I slid in, I went straight for her and hugged her legs. Her eyes lit up and she picked me up. I missed the way she smelled. Her silky hair was everywhere in my face but I loved it all the same. I hugged her so tight I closed my eyes and squeezed hoping our embrace would bond us into one and I would never have to leave her again. When I opened my eyes I saw my dad in a

My family migrated from Buffalo, New York to Dearborn, Michigan in 1993, one year before I was born. My father’s family lives in upstate New York, we visit often. My grandmother passed away before I was born, so I never got the chance to meet her. When we usually visit we would go see my grandfather, Kassem. We called Kassem gido, which is grandfather in Arabic. My father and I would stay at gido’s house when we would go to New York. We would stay the weekends during the school year, and about five days during the summer months.

When I first saw this sidewalk it reminded me of the town I moved here from, then looking closer at the details around it I realized that the image itself represents me and my family as a whole. I grew up in a small town in West Virginia, my family and I lived in a trailer park on a road called grapevine. It was just me, my older sister, my mother, and my father for about four years, then on halloween of 2006 my younger sister was born. Living in a small house with only two rooms and no other options, we had to put the crib in the closet of my mother’s room. Crime in West Virginia has always been bad. One night while we were all asleep someone shattered the window in the living room broke in and stole our xbox and television. Living in the trailer park with the baby proved to be more dangerous with people constantly moving in and out. People kept breaking in, someone even climbed in through the window of my room. We were all scared and my father was losing his mind with anger, he even punched a hole straight through the ceiling. Then we finally had enough of all the break ins, so we moved in with my grandmother down the road.

Some worse than others, children are known to have their flaws. Making mistakes and learning are all a part of growing up, but for Jace, these mistakes came few and far between. The day Jace entered this world, our family knew he had been a blessing. Being the first “real” grandchild in the family, due to the fact my brother and I were just step grandchildren, belief had it that he would become spoiled; however, that concept was not grasped as quickly as expected. Many qualities including his compassion, willingness to help, and social ability provided the boy with the infectious smile the ability to shine light upon our lives.

“Wake up kids!” my mom exclaimed her words dragging me off the bed and into the shower. I jumped back as the sharp cold water pierced the skin on my chest, a stream of “wake up” filled my body immediately. We woke up earlier than usual, which would probably be the usual for other families, my family was already dressed and downstairs ready to go to our friends family reunion. I threw on a faded shirt and a worn pair of jeans, they were old and i was wearing them, and headed down the stairs and into my mom’s grey minivan.

Every household does sleepovers a little differently than all the rest, varying in scale and frequency among a wide variety of traits. Around three years ago from the current date, my family made plans for my younger cousins to have a week-long sleepover over at my house. Inside my mind, I was musing, “This better not get too loud.” Each of my cousins had a tendency to get pretty noisy with very little reprieve in-between, and it got amazingly ear-splitting. Tyler, the youngest, was the king of noise as it turned out. He was very bouncy and rambunctious, and verbally fought with my brother literally every single visit.

My family doesn’t come off as any different from the ordinary family, but to me we are all unique in our own weird ways. To start off, the youngest, is my brother Aiden. He takes a while to get used to. He’s very shy around people he doesn’t know, but is otherwise very outward towards his friends. He wants to know everything there is to know; yet he knows almost nothing. He is the typical little brother that will say inappropriate things about you at the least opportune time. I still manage to enjoy his presence for as long as my patience will let me. The second oldest, my sister Abigail, is a person that is worth getting to know. She cares about her friends sometimes more than she cares about herself. In terms of vice and virtue, it leans towards more vice for her wellbeing. She is determined to get what she wants, which is a good personality quality to have and is something that I admire her in. The oldest of my siblings, Alison, I don’t know a whole lot about. She’s only a half sister to me because my father is her father, but my mother is not her mother. What I do know of her is that she wants to be able to live life freely. She doesn’t like being constricted by rules and such. My father is a great man and someone that I strive to be better than. Most people want to be like their role model, but I am already too much like my father that it would kill my mother to be any closer to him. I want to have a family as well as the one he has and to have a wife that loves me no

My mom comes in late at night, hiding something in her front pocket. She shelters this unknown object as if it’s a secret only she can know. She stares my father in the eyes and expresses how this is a gift from god, and he certainly can’t get mad at her for it. He sighs with the look of “what have you done now,” plastered on his face. She reveals the secret to her family by taking her arms away from the pocket. Suddenly a furry creature pops its head out to look at his new world. She laid him on the floor and he started sniffing around his forever home. Little did we know that this dog would be the best thing to happen to this family. This puppy would become more than just a friend, he’d become part of the family. He taught our family true happiness, loyalty and love.

When I was five years old, my aunt was involved in a really severe car accident. The accident left her in a rehab for a couple of months so she could learn how to walk and do daily activities on her own again. I would always love to visit her every weekend. Being only five years old and not really knowing the main purpose of a hospital, I thought it was a fun and magical place. They had a colossal courtyard where my sisters, cousin, and me would play. They also had an indoor playground where other children my age could run away and play with too. Let’s not forget the amazing food they would serve us during lunch time. However, the whole image of a hospital for me was tainted due to one thing, the elevator.