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Personal Narrative: The Elderly Divided

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The sharp arctic like breeze propels itself onto my young and fair skin as my mother forces the old, frail white birch door open, exposing both myself and my younger sister to the harsh and unforgiving climate that awaits us beyond the both feeble and aged shack that I have called home for the past nine and a half years. My father sits in the frost bitten and beaten three seater Chevrolet truck. Crammed in the tray covered in tarp, I struggle to make out the shape of what seems to be my previously owned duffel bag, bestowed upon me by my next door neighbours following the death of their son, my mother describes his death to me as being “a tragic accident” down in the Cape Breton mines. Before my eyes could properly focus on the contents inside the tray of the truck, my Mother had already …show more content…

My father drives on and not a word is said as we journey through the bitter and cold dark of the night. Shrouds of fog consume us as the truck pushes onward. My father strong and wise is one way of describing him, always providing great advice when it comes to making life choices. My father towers over others and he uses his height to his advantage when it comes to his job. Cutting down trees is how he makes a living and provides for his family, but due to the low pay his job isn’t always safe. My father and his work friends leave home at day-break and venture off into the heart of the woods where danger surrounds their every move. My father has come home in the past quite dampened, seeing this I was curious and remember hiding around the corner and listening in on the confession he had made. He told my mother that one of his close friends that he has known for countless years was mauled by a brown bear when out in the

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