Personal Narrative : Personal Experiences

Put the gun down! Put the gun down! Pow Pow Pow. The gun shots cracked into the air as loud as thunder. One after another. We live day by day not knowing our end. In the blink of an eye our lives can be changed forever. Its life, yet even in knowing this we never expect tragedy to find us. We never expect it to affect our lives and the people we know and love. I’m going to share with you the day tragedy found my life.

Suddenly, leaves rustled in the distance and a small doe appeared with piercing brown eyes and a jet-black nose eating luscious wild blackberries from a bush. After walking a short distance, faint sounds of rushing water filled the atmosphere and the scenery unexpectedly changed. Giant old hemlock trees towered over the trickling picturesque creek that parallels the trail, whispering in the breeze. A natural freshness emerged in the mountain air approaching Abrams Falls as misty sprays of chilly sprinkles bounced off my body. The cascading water roared and rumbled over the broad ledge, appearing frosty white and foamy before plummeting into the deep, crystal-clear pool below. Like most visitors, I dipped my hands into the water pool and enjoyed a cool refreshing drink. The sun beamed overhead in the blue sky and a nippy breeze caressed my body as I sat on an enormous, gray boulder admiring the magnificent natural wonder of the Abram Falls. Trekking on Abrams Falls Trail and observing the powerful, breathtaking waterfall was a memorable excursion that I hope to share with

When I was eight years old, I caught a big, long trout, and the feeling of victory made it memorable. Now, I fish every opportunity I have. Furthermore, the beauty of nature is refreshing. The scenery outside is breathtaking. While I was at Christopher Run Campground, located in Mineral Run, Virginia, I awoke to a beautiful, colorful sunrise. In awe, I learned to appreciate the magnificent landscape. I will cherish that enduring moment forever. Also, the peaceful noises of outdoor life are calming. A nearby stream of flowing water made the setting more serene. As I heard the birds chirping and the wind blowing from the sounds of nature, my stress level immediately declined. Lastly, the amount of fun I have is indescribable. Roasting marshmallows are the best part of a campfire. On a summer night in August 2014, my family and I sat by a bonfire devouring our heavenly marshmallows; it is one of the most unforgettable moments of my life. Gooey, chewy, and delicious, these sweet treats make my smile grow wider! Telling scary stories with family and friends is entertaining too. Exchanging spooky tales around a fire is not only a fantastic bonding experience but an amusing

I think we all have a beautiful places in our minds we like to go and visit. And of all the places I can remember, the one that makes me happiest is this bridge a little outside of town and it’s simply breathtaking. Underneath the bridge is a creek that runs shallow, but strong. A sparse forest surrounds it, The trees, maple and oak stand tall over the softly running water. Branches hang low; every now and then dropping a leaf into the water, leaving rings on the surface. The water is clear, free of mud and debris save for the occasional shard of glass from a beer bottle. Underneath the bridge lays concrete covered slippery green moss.

Hello, Dr. Taft, I look forward to another exciting semester with you, and my cohorts exploring my inner and outer world. Let’s start with my family constellations it begins with my stepmother, and my father, my older brother Steven along with myself. At the time, I did not know that Ann was my stepmother, and I did not find out until I was older, and she had two sons who lived in Arizona. A few years later her eldest son Tommy would come to live with us, and the life that we were accustomed to would change the outcome of all our lives.

Finally, as I neared the center of the woods I noticed something. Just a few hundred feet before me was a waterfall stood among the thicket of trees and brush, nothing in comparison to niagara falls, but a waterfall none the less whose waters would eventually seep into the soft soil and help to fill one of two lakes at the center of Breakheart Reservation. Its waters were perfectly clean and pure. Wet from the small cascade of water, rocks shined in the minute amount of sun that was able to peek through the canopy above. Now this waterfall was, in most senses, relatively unimpressive. It was only about a measly six or seven feet tall and had only a small stream of water roughly falling down its side, but these characteristics were not what was amazing about the miniature falls. Walking through the woods, the thing that impressed me the most about this waterfall was that I have lived in Wakefield all of my life before this moment never noticed this little waterfall. Whenever I am in these woods I only ever focused on the negatives, the trash that is littered among , the forgotten merchandise that after years of rainfall and decay were now a haphazard tapestry of holes, and was thus blind to the beautiful things in those

Sitting touching the familiar worn benches beneath me, looking out seeing the familiar view, and getting that familiar feeling, I was home. Hume Lake Cristian Camps with its tranquil water stretching out, and the forest behind it stretching even farther. The silowate of the trees framing the lake, the view everyone longs for all summer was right there before us, welcoming us.

My five-year-old self-clung to my mother begging her not to leave me in a cramped unairconditioned cabin with 10 other girls. My mother who was also a camper at one time would sweetly give me a kiss on the cheek and tell me that I would survive. Much like many of the other kids, as I grew up and became more and more in love with camp my goodbyes with my parents became quick pecks on the cheek and rushed hugs on the modest wooden porch of my cabins. Camp is where people go to learn and flourish. It is an opportunity for a kid who has never stayed away from their parents for more than a few day to become independent. Many of the campers are afraid of camp the first time they arrive. The fear of the unknown: Who am I going to be friends with? What bed am I going to sleep on? Is the food going to be gross? All these questions and more will be running through the kids and parents heads as they drive through the white picket fence for the first time. As a camp counselor, I get to be the friendly face that greets and reassures the parents that even though their child is worried they will soon feel at home in our cozy wooden cabin. One of the first things we do is help the campers make their beds. A calmness floods over the parents as they see the excitement on their child's face pick a top or bottom bunk and claim their new nook. Once the child gets settled into their new home for the next 2 to 6 weeks it is time for the goodbyes. When I was a camper my first year my goodbyes were

I saw supposed to be camping with my "friends" but one thing led to another and now i'm here, alone. I had been walking for hours. I got lost and couldn't find the way out since we decided to camp at some random forest, instead of a proper campsite. With no way out and being exhausted ,from walking, I decided to sleep. It hadn't been raining lately so sleeping, on the ground, wouldn't be too bad, plus it wasn't too hot or cold. I got my tent from my backpack and started to set my own little campsite. After everything was set up, I fell asleep and decided to think about what to do tomorrow.

When I arrived at camp, I found the reality much different than I had imagined and much different than described. The "newly renovated" staff housing consisted of a tiny room with two sets of rusty bunk beds shared by four girls, one small bathroom with a toilet that flushed only "periodically" and a broken window that leaked in the rain. Making matters worse, the cook quit the first week and we ate scrambled eggs and fish sticks more times than I cared for.

To begin with, we, my scout troop and I, arrived at the Pinnacles National Park well after sunset, and there was still the hike into camp let alone the setting up of camp that had to be dealt with upon arrival. In spite of the increased hardships that would ensue, the hike in was supplemented by the vast tranquility of the darkness on the earth and the glimmering stars above. Upon arrival to our campsite we laid our temporary mark unto the land, and settled in for the night. We woke up to the pitter patter of rain against our lodgings and

‘We are going to have so much fun guys!” this was one of many moments when I could confidently say I don’t believe I am my mother’s child. She was talking about our upcoming camping trip for spring break. While my friends went to Florida, South Carolina, and Hawaii, I was stuck driving 12 hours to my parents favorite camping spot in Maine. I can appreciate nature in small doses, yes butterflies are cute, and waterfalls are beautiful. But I don’t do camping. I mean why does anyone? The bear warnings at the beginning of a camp site should be scary enough. But if that doesn’t do it for you, think of the lack of running water, heat (or AC), and hot meals. Counting that day, I had a week left before being dragged to the woods.

A cool November wind was blowing and Brittlyn Jacobs pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders as she stared out over the water of Wilmington North Carolina. Earlier when she had arrived, there had been a few people strolling along the river walk, but most had taken note of the cool winds coming in from the north and were long since gone. Now she found herself alone beside the river, and she took in her surroundings. Wilting azaleas and cherry blossoms lined the river, and their reflection shimmered in the shallow water along the shore. Heavy clouds were beginning to descend and fog was forming, the horizon would soon be invisible. In any other place, at another time, she would have felt the splendor of the beauty around her but as

The next three miles were much as the first two had been, a walk through a colorful enclosed forest. At the three-mile point, a rough, wooden, weatherworn sign stated that the Over Mountain shelter lay close by, and seeing as dusk had rapidly set upon me, I decided to spend the night there. Down a small hill through an arch of trees, the Overmountain Shelter squatted in an open field. The trees abruptly ended on my left and a large hillside presented itself to the sky. The hill, a wind tunnel during a thunderstorm, seduced me with its lush green grass, but I did not so easily forsake the prospected security of the shelter. The shelter, an old, weathered, abandoned barn squatted regally in the meadow, as if ruling over the valley below it. As dusk deepened into night, I carried my sore but happy body inside where I cooked a wondrous meal of pasta then swiftly passed into unconscious bliss.

The natural beauty of this glacial lake is something I have never seen before. The lake runs along the road on one side and looks as if it’s hugging the mountains on the other. The reflection of the fluffy clouds and rolling mountains on the crystal-clear water is stunning. As I stand on the bank I can feel the coldness of the water as the wind blows. As far as the eye can see there is nothing but pristine blue water. Crescent Lake has such a tranquil, calming effect. As I relish in the beauty with the sun kissing my face, I could get lost standing on the bank of this beautiful