Personal Narrative: Roots

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.

I love living in a small town, it gives me a sense of guaranteed safety and simplicity.

Another character that chooses to keep his name rather than being free and live, is John

The narrator’s name was created by her grandfather. The narrator’s grandfather was in Virginia, at that time people there owned slaves. He fell in love with a Cherokee and stole a horse to marry her and people did not forgive him for that. Therefore he lost his family name and created a new one, the one that the narrator has now. That’s how the narrator’s name was created.

It takes a village to raise a child, and that is the atmosphere that I was raised in. My grandparents' house is open to anyone who needs a home. As a child I lived with my mom, cousins, aunts, uncles, great uncle, and great grandma. I was always entertained and learning. My family taught me how to write in cursive and how to count, but they also taught me life lessons that I will never forget.

When I was extended seven feet above the ground, I knew we had succeeded. My two bases were in front of me and my backspot was behind me. I heard the familiar counts of my backspot “one, two, three, four”, I bounced and pushed myself up into my bases waiting hands, “five, six, seven, eight”, I straightened as my bases lifted me up to chest level. I locked my knees and stayed tight. I put on a smile and looked ahead. I felt my backspot release her hold on my ankles. I heard her voice once again, “extension, one, two, three, four”, I brought my hands down to my sides and focused on staying tight as I slowly rose, “five, six, seven, eight. I was all the way up. Then a few moments later I heard the counts as they brought me to chest level then back down to the ground. We had done it, we had hit the stunt and did an extension.

I like to beat the rush for lines and do not prefer being late, but

Spring rolled around and it was finally time for the first t-ball game of the season. The dandelions were sprouting and the bees were buzzing in the outfield. All twelve players showed up but only half of the team was there to play ball. It was hard to expect six-year olds to have much of an attention span anyway. The ball was hit and began to roll for the outfield. At this very moment the team of twelve became divided. This division separated the team players from the self-servers. Little did I know that my first time on the field would mark the beginning of something so big and influential in my life.

It was a sunny bright Friday afternoon and I was at school. I knew today was going to be the day, the day I get my new bike. After school my dad picked me up and drove home, so I can change out of my uniform and grab something to eat. I remembered my stomach feeling strange, I was so excited getting my new bike that I couldn't even eat. We went back in the car to go to Kmart. Even though Kmart was only like five minutes, it felt like I was in the car forever. I remember I was thinking of all the features my new bike was going to have.

If I were to write the story of my life so far, I would title it “Diving Deeper”. Throughout my life, I have been through many tough circumstances, and taken chances on the road less traveled, all culminating in an interesting journey that has lead me to where I am today. Specifically, in my college decision this past year, I chose to take a less favorable path by enrolling in courses at a community college for a year before transferring to a university, in order to save money and redirect my life a bit. Although I went into this year with fears of loneliness, I combatted those feelings by trying things I have never had the guts to do, such as getting a drastic haircut and learning how to drive, and found deeper pieces of myself along the way.

It was a hot sweltering Saturday in August, August twenty-seventh to be exact. I remember waking up that morning with my stomach in knots we were to play the Hot Springs Bison. Sure, I played JV last year and practiced all summer with the first team but now all the hot god awful gut ranching two a day practices were about to pay off.

There is someone I wish was still around from before that is my dad. He passed away in the first week of summer the summer before 6th grade. I lived with my mom until I was 7 then he went and got visitations so he seen me every Wednesday and every other weekend in the summers I was at his house 1 week and my mom's 1 week. Sometimes when he was close to my house or my grandmas he would bring me "care packages" they were mainly toys the one I remember was he was at Walmart and in the middle of the night he brought me Legos the Legos were batman ones. One Christmas he brought my a huge monster truck it was remote control it was about 2 feet tall I had it for a couple years I really liked to do donuts with it in the snow. He had a girl fried and

She's got the black plastic of a cutting knife handle gripped in her palm. Beige-painted fingernails glisten under the scrutinizing lights of our glazed kitchen; a classy and neutral color, like herself. She's grinning in concentration, a thin upward-curving line shaping her lips.

I look into the eyes of my 9 year old cousin, Lee. His left eye twitches every so slightly as he smiles up at me. He holds up a toy set and I can see the glint of pride in his eyes as he excitedly tells me how he built it. “This one was a Christmas present,” he explains.