Personal Narrative-Pulama

It's a Friday afternoon, I plan to go to Great Wolf Lodge in an hour with my church. I see one of my friends so he says to his mom “ Hey, that's my friend” I said “Crap” So I go inside to sign in to go and see my friends just sitting in a corner on a big sofa. We are listening to music and just talking then a green bus comes.

I have lived in only one location my entire life: Edwardsville, Illinois. A peripheral suburb of St. Louis, it stands as the rare oasis of people in a desert of corn, pinned in its own personal bubble. Due to this blend of time and isolation, I developed a natural familiarity with my hometown. But, throughout my childhood, I longed to break free from the confines of the bubble and venture outward. However, this changed last summer, as I walked through Richards Brickyard, our family heirloom, that my great-grandfather, Benjamin Richards, founded over 120 years ago. I felt these childlike sentiments slip away. The bubble that had surrounded me for so long began to vanish, and the picture that it had been obscuring was slowly revealed.

On November 19th, 2016, My family and I were going to Western Michigan University. We were heading off to watch the football and hockey game, my father told me it would take a few hours. Hours went flying by it felt like we were in a race car, we finally arrived hours later. We went straight to the dining area, it smelled like fresh made pasta and many more thrilling smells. As we made our way through the crowd, we found a table to sit at. Afterwards when we found a seat, we went darting off in many directions to look at all the food stations. Few minutes passed by when we all swarm like bees back to the table. We all seated and started eating, we talked about what we got for food.

It is true in life that everything happens for a reason. It is also true to say that sometimes it is all about being in the right place, at the right time. There was never a more prominent example of this than a traumatic summers evening, only a few years ago.

As we close out the 43rd game of the season, the Phillies drop to 15-28. As the pitching woes continue, it's tough to look on the bright side. It's understandable for the fans to be anxious, but it's all apart of the rebuild. I'm here to tell you to R-E-L-A-X. The team is still incredibly young and in the process of getting back to October. Maikel Franco is struggling a bit at the plate. Picking up the slack in the lineup is Tommy Joseph, who has been on absolute tear through the month of May. Cesar Hernandez has cooled off a bit but still playing some good ball. What can't I say about Aaron Altherr? He's everything you can ask for right now and then some. One thing you can look forward to is one of the most exciting

As a major loss, her husband’s suicide made her empty and lonely but not for long. She soon emerged as a stronger and more spiritual person, thanks

On a Saturday morning, around 10am, my family was getting ready for my niece’s (Maritza) 4-year-old birthday party. After 12:30pm we were already at my sister’s (Adele) house, ready to give my niece a hug and her annual present. At the moment Maritza wasn’t home, so I stalled for a bit. Chatted with their neighbor, few high school friends, and their wife’s. Finally, she showed up along with her father. The first person she hugs is me, I’m her favorite uncle, according to her, as she hugs my legs and looked up and says, “hey uncle J.” I replied “hey?” with a bit of a curiosity on my mind. Her lip had a big red lump. I managed to not ask her what had happened on her lip. I’m thinking it’s a “I fell down” type accident. The party went off, and

That was a lot of money, and I didnt want to let Tony down so I got in the car and started to drive. As I drove the road was empty. I had confidence I was not going o get caught. It was a slightly wormer day out witch might have been because the sun was out. I had the windows down and was blaring music just trying to enjoy life when a cop pulls out behind me.

They had now found out that she has cancer again since one tiny cell didn’t get killed. This cancer cell has been growing through all the years and it has become worse, it was now a stage 4 cancer, the highest stage, and has now moved into her bones. She still stands strong today and she says that she made it through all the pain and feeling hopeless through God. A miracle have happened so far from 2013 to 2015 she has gotten better and is out of the hospital. She is back to her normal daily routine and enjoying life as much as she can. “I don’t plan on leaving soon, I just need to get ready for when god calls me home “. She will never give up this life and stop fighting even though every single thing, when it turns

I admired your parents. The always treated me with friendship, and the news of your mom’s death deeply saddened me. She was a good woman and I know she will be missed by all her knew her.

Although my high school years are up, I am proud to say that my time there was well spent. Since my freshman year I have been an avid member of Trevor G. Browne high school and the community and tried my best to contribute and give back as much as possible. I am currently enrolled at ASU where I plan to further my education in psychology and medicine in order to go back to my community and help my people. During my high school years I commuted back and forth from the Tohono O’odham reservation to Phoenix Arizona. This was an utter culture shock but it made me realise where my small community at home, a small village called North Komelik in Sif Oidak District on the Tohono O’odham reservation, faults and it was my duty to be the change in order

The fresh aroma of cinnamon rolls filled my nostrils and I heaved a deep sigh of pleasure. Carefully, I pulled them from the oven, a steady flow of steam rising off of them. I laid the tray carefully on the counter and stood back to look at the beauty of my creation. Eight, symmetrical cinnamon rolls lined up on a silver tray, just praying to be eaten. I grabbed the bowl of frosting and poured the thick, creamy, white substance over them, watching it slide like honey. I smiled with satisfaction. This is where I loved to be. Where I wanted to be. In the kitchen, whipping up something spectacular, watching the magic that I could create with just my hands. The different colors and textures and smells were outstanding combinations capable of overwhelming

On the night of December 20th, 2014, I was at the airport—scared, searching for a familiar face, worrying which direction to head, I was lost! Finally, after moments of frantic search around the terminal, when I was almost convinced that I was at the wrong place, someone calls my name. Takes me a while to find the source of the voice and doubtfully I head towards the woman calling me out. I saw her after a very long time, seven years to be exact and she changed quite a bit. Changes that you don't realize in photos. Changes that only times are responsible for and can be recognized only when the past is known. As I approached my sister, I was nervous. I didn't know how to greet, what to say, we smiled and hugged, words were being tough to find. On the way home, sitting on the backseat of the car, looking at the darkness of that freezing night, struggling with my jet-lagged body and mind, I was wondering, "Am I ready for this new life?" By my side, was my younger sister who was my companion in this quite adventurous and fearsome journey from a tiny country on the other side of the world, Bangladesh. I wondered what she was thinking.

I would like to start off by thanking everyone for attending this occasion with us. None of this would have happened without the help and guidance of Allah (SWT). I also would not have made it if it weren’t for some very special people in my life who gave me the strength and encouragement to carry on when I needed it. I have the most supportive and loving family – Mommy, Daddy, Sara, Uzair, you have been there for me in every way for such a long time and you guys are truly my other half. Mommy and Daddy, you have given me the encouragement to hang in there so many times throughout the years and I want you to know you made it a lot easier. To my siblings, you guys are my guiding light, my defender, and my help in time of

On September 27, it will make nine years. Nine years since my life has changed. Nine years since I became a mature nine year-old. My sister, Amarachi, the youngest and final addition to my family, was welcomed on September 27, 2008. On that Saturday morning, my siblings and I were sitting at our small round dining table eating chocolate chip waffles and drinking chocolate milk, and as my younger brother and I went to the kitchen to drop our plates and cups in the sink, the doorbell rang. It was one of my mother’s closest friends, Sister Felicia. She stated that she was here to say a prayer for my mother as she left for the hospital. A look of worry and confusion plagued my siblings and I. “Don’t be scared,” Felicia’s annoyingly calm voice said. But that feeling was inevitable. My mother was bombarded with questions from her four children, and instead of reassuring us that everything was fine, she just smiled.