Personal Narrative: The House On Plum Street

As I sat in my fourth grade English class listening to my teacher tell me "you have a book report due in just two short weeks" and I thought to myself how am I ever going to do this? I have never been a good writer and I have no idea where to begin explaining the book "Little House on The Praire" and presenting it in front of the class without being embaressed as all get out.The day went on as I thought about it more and more the bell rang. I ran out to my mom's car and stated "Mom I have a book report due in just two short weeks and I cant do it. She said "why not honey" I said " Im just not s good enough writer" She said " yes you are and yes you can and you will do a fantastic job at it. That is when I realized I am a writer.

I didn't always live in California. Before California I lived in Denver, Colorado. Before Denver I lived in Aurora, Colorado. When we moved to california we had a family of five. We moved to California, when I was six, Then we lived at my grandma’s house in Riverside for a year. We found a place on Ferree Street and that became our home.

Have you ever seen the TV show the “Walton’s?” If you have, then you will definitely be able to identify how unique the place was where I was raised. I was raised in North Arkansas in a small community called Onia. In fact, the road that I lived on was called Lawrence Road. It was named this because all of my relatives lived down this road. My Grandpa, who is now a retired Baptist preacher, lived down this road along with his brothers and sisters. The church that I grew up going to was also pastored by my grandfather for over thirty years and it was about two miles down the road. The community bordered the Ozark National Forest so it was very rural and isolated. Most of the traffic on Lawrence Road was mainly the people who lived

"More than anything, I just want you to know that there is more than one person you can lean on. You may have someone up their who you are relying on, but you have two incrediably strong sons who would never wish to see their mother in pain like this. Whatever the outcome we finally get your boys will be strong for you and in return I'm sure you will be strong for them."[/b]

When the Weeping Willow trees became abundant around every sector of the car, I knew we were getting close. Once we passed the bridge by the small, grass bank called Cypher Beach, I could barely sit still in the front seat of my grandparents truck because I knew we were about to arrive. There I sat, waiting anxiously with my size ten feet smashed into a size seven foot box because if I removed them, I affected my grandfather's ability to drive and my grandmother’s ability to sit and look pretty. Even though the flip of the coin always caused me to sit in the front, compared to the comfy back where the other four children sat, it was all worth it when we arrived to our destination. The destination was just up the road, where we turned right

The Festival return to Greenfield, MA after being in Turner Fall, MA for a couple of years. I had never been in the Art Block, but found one of their stages The Wheelhouse one to be inmate setting like you what you might find in a coffeehouse. I heard Julia Cira sing on that stage and she had a beautiful voice. One that I like much better than Rosie Porter. It's just a good one to have for ballads. Its a strong one. She plays an electric guitar as well as sings. She was accommodate by a man on drum set and another young woman on an electric guitar. That woman played it well. I listen to her sing a couple of songs and she sang beautifully each time. According to her, They were doing full on rock songs and they sound like very nice quality

On April 1, 2000, I was placed into a group home because of my behavior at the home. My dad and I didn’t get along. So he sent me to a placed called Bowman House. When I arrived there the first person I met was a lady name Alexander, she begin showing me around the units. Alexander was called the granny of the units. It was two units for the boys and girls. She took me to the boys unit first to look at the units. After I looked at the boys unit she took me to the girls unit. Where I would be staying. I had the chance to bond with Alexander, it wasn’t something I was trying to do it just happen. I had to stay with Alexander until the staff came back from picking the other peers up from school. An hour pass and the peers came back I had to go

The house was long, white, and had blue shudders. I could always pick out which set of windows out front peeked into my bedroom because of the messy off-white paint stuck to it after years of never being touched up. Inside, so much more was going on than the typical all-American home lead outsiders to believe. Confusion, growth, fear, and lots of aluminum cans.

Half way through my sophomore year, I got my driver’s license. Every teenager looks forward to when they can go driving around town. I turned sixteen on February sixth in two-thousand fourteen. Teenagers can get a little rebellious on the roads. On April twenty-third of the same year, I learned that it isn’t good to be rebellious.

When I think about my red house, a free and easy feeling rushes over. Worries consisted of macaroni being too hot, swinging too high, and Dora, my first dog, pooping in my room. With bookshelves filled with stuffed animals and countless Pooh Bear toys, I was always content. The playground in my backyard provided days of fun, and nights in my mom and dad’s bed gave me peaceful and comforting sleep, preparing me for the next day of work. The kitchen was where I liked to claim I “worked”. Although I didn’t do a lot of the actual cooking, I liked to be there while my mom was. A love for cooking and baking developed at a young age, around the same time I realized I wanted to be just like my mom. The song “Best Day” by Taylor Swift perfectly describes

I lived in Edwards Hall. If you want to interact with other Australian students and want to get the whole college experience I would recommend living on campus.

A wall at Grandpa's house had all the photos of the family. They were all black and white. They were all faded. Some had turned a little bit brown in some spots and some were not really clear at all. But when people looked at them; they all knew who was who and where and when they were taken. Some photos were of groups of people. Some were just of families standing stiff like they were in the milatary. Some were pitchers of just a baby. Some were really silly ones that everyone would look at and laugh. Grandpa had a picture of me, two, with my brothers and sisters. No matter what the picture was, relitives would look at it and then tell the story that went with the photo. All of them were of family and freinds and all of them seemed very special.

“ Alright agent, go through the back door,” Chief Ralph stated. As Chief Ralph snuck up to the front door and listened for any noises. “ The front yard and porch is clear,” Chief Ralph stated quietly into the walkie talkie. “10-4,” Agent Mike replied. “ Let’s go under the house,” Agent Mike stated. So they check under the house and find nothing ,but a snake and a couple of rats. “ I’m going to check the cars for any weapons or people,” Chief Ralph stated. A few minutes later he says, “ Cars are clear.”

When Charlies car breaks down on the way to her parents’ house, she fears the worse. Stranded with no car, she takes a ride from the mechanic to her parents’ house. With a winter storm coming in though, Charlie makes him stay the night.

Our lives have been running so fast, haven’t it ? It always seemed like New Years’ Eve yesterday. I was at my Host Family’s house in Michigan this morning, and 6 hours later, I’m here at Fort Smith, Arkansas. It’s hot. It’s humid. I’m sweating. But gotta jot down this lines ! Super excited for this new town.