Personal Narrative On My Fatherhood

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

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was in a park, bright and sunny out , I was feeling every kind of emotion there was to feel. I didn’t know what to expect or how I was going to react. My mom was right next to me looking calm as ever. How did she do it? Suddenly, I see a car pull up and a taller, muscular man steps out. That’s the very first time I met my biological dad.

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

I laid down on the white, musty bedsheets next to my ailing mother. This was her fourth trip to the hospital in a month. I was only six at the time and wasn’t really sure why I was in this room waiting for the doctor to come back, but I knew I had to be there for my best friend. I snuggled up closer on her right side and mustered up the courage to ask the question I had been wondering all month.

"No buts, son. What I say goes, and I said no! "Howie was yelling now.

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.

“Ya son las Cinco y media,” is what my dad would say to me everyday during summer. We would go up to Redlands to this avocado groove to pick avocados. Under the big, tall, leafy trees we would work until our bodies couldn't take it anymore and needed a break. We would work under the hot scorching sun, our faces dripping in sweat until 3:30. I would always get home tired knowing the same thing was waiting for me the next day.

Toss in the jeans, a pair of church clothes, a t-shirt, and don’t forget the tooth brush. Another trip to dads is on the horizon. But before I can do that I must make it through 5:30 a.m. basketball practice, a College Biology test, a Government essay, a CTSO Executive lunch meeting, and all the while take care of my fake baby for Child Development.

My father was a lifeguard, but not in my lifetime, so maybe loving the ocean was in our blood. As children we grew up in Brooklyn and we would go to Riis Park for our day at the beach. One very distinct memory is of my father as he stood waist deep in the ocean with my brother and sister; the waves periodically lifted and dropped them in the water at his side. Waist deep for my father meant it was well over my head so I remained a safe distance (or so I thought) behind them. Suddenly, a wave appeared and and before I could turn and rush to the shoreline the ocean attacked. I found myself in a world of foam, pockets of air allowed me to breathe as I was tossed about like

"Never forget the past…because it may haunt you forever. Regret all the bad things…cherish the good things. Look ahead always…but don't let the bad things from the past get in your mind." As a young child, there were so many incidents in my life that made me become the person I am today. There were rough times as well as good times. If I were to tell you all of them, I would remember half of them. I think some of my incidents really had some impact, and some were just simple ways of life. To tell you the truth, the incident that had the most impact on me has to be when my real father left me at the age of three. I never knew my father. I mean being a baby, you really have no experience or recognition of somebody else.

It was the spring of 2013. My mom took me out of school early that day because we needed to get driving to Dike, Iowa. Since my sister is also a volleyball player, she has state that same weekend, but not in the same place. However, the sophomores were at the same place we were. Anyhow, my sister drove with my mom to the hotel her team was staying at, and I drove with my dad. I’m a lot like my dad so I get ready pretty quickly and I only pack what’s needed. When I got home, it took me about five minutes to get ready since I packed my bag the day before. On the other hand, my mom had to take at least half an hour to “fix” her makeup and her hair, and my sister took about forty-five minutes just to pack her bag! Anyways, my dad and I made it

My dad and I were in the car going to our my first organized basketball game. My heart was pounding I was already sweating and I was the most nervous I have ever been in my whole entire life!

Being a little girl all I ever really wanted was a father that is was there for me. Growing up I was one of those depressed girls who never got to experience the love of her father. Never got to feel the warmth of my father’s hug after a long day. Never experiencing the love and protection from him. Leaving me to question why he was my father for the rest of my life... This is my personal narrative and I will be telling you about the time my father stood me up.

Yet for all our fantasies and vivid imaginations, none of us could really satisfactorily imagine how he looked — not until one afternoon when the wind from the west began its piercing song, and the convulsing dust covered rooftops and the west skies turned a crimson red. As I was ready to leave our back alley and flee the horror of the red sky, Martin appeared in the alley with a whirlwind of dust dancing about him. He was awfully small — much smaller than any of us had ever imagined him to be. And when I saw how thin he was, I thought to myself how very appropriate was the rhyme we had created. Not only was he small, but he was unbelievably skinny. Yet, strangely enough, right in the middle of this thin and frail body was an enormous

Your parents- your father and I- we are the reason you are here. My parents weren’t. My birth mother bore me and in doing so she created a new life. A life that she held dominion over for only a brief moment. A life that she neither understood, nor cared to understand. My parents are the ones who didn’t make me, but rather allowed me to make myself. They didn’t inhibit me. They raised me the only way they knew how with the best of intentions, which is a good start. It’s simple and it’s true.