Personal Narrative: The Yellow House

It had finally arrived. Moving day. I was finally leaving my home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania after five short years and a sort of gloom lingered in the air. Although many teenagers would be excited to reunite with their family, friends, and childhood home, I, however, was frightened of the future. I woke up that morning and just laid there and listened to the sound of the rain pittering against the roof and windows, pattering against the surrounding forest in which I shared many memories. After what felt like centuries of just listening and reflecting, I got up and looked out the window. I looked at my neighbor's house across the field of grass which separated our houses and at the kids who had become like my siblings. I looked at the ice

My parents had packed everything. EVERYTHING. There was bareness on the walls and there was around us except piles and piles of boxes. I looked around the house one last time as cold salty tears streaked down my face. I was covered in tears from the waist up. The feeling of leaving everyone made me empty inside. I felt hollow. Finally my dad said, “Let’s go!” I pleaded with him to let us stay, but I got the same usual answer, “You’ll be fine.” I wasn’t.

We had been talking about moving to California for about a month, and the prospect of leaving behind my friends, school, and family terrified me. However, I clung to the hope that maybe we wouldn’t have to go in the end, but that didn’t last long. One rainy spring afternoon my parents sat my brother and I down, and excitedly told us that we would be moving to America. My younger brother leapt up from the seat next to me and joyfully danced around the room, but I was not so ecstatic. After my parents put a positive spin on the situation, I didn’t feel quite as reluctant, but I still wasn’t fully on board. Nevertheless, I had little say in the matter as my father’s work required us to relocate, and so that summer we moved to California.

If you try to race a swarm of Yellowjackets, you are in for a world of hurt. When I was 12, my friends and I decided we would have a race amongst the magnolia trees near our house in the country. Closer to a shrub than a tree, the limbs hung low to the ground, creating a perfect obstacle course for the neighborhood kids to play in. When we decided on a set of rules and nominated a referee, we made our way to our starting positions. After we started to maneuver our way through the bows and crooked trees, I ended falling behind due to me being the slowest of the bunch. It was at this point, I heard a faint noise from under my feet and immediately stopped to inspect the ground around me only to see a Yellowjacket nest. During my slow understanding of the situation, I had managed to step on and kill at least one of the yellow bugs that were guarding the nest's entrance. The reaction was not something I had

As I am riding in my husbands 2008 chevy cobalt I realize, this is exactly how I envisioned the perfect day. A soft gentle breeze wafting the sweet scent of jasmine over me, the sun radiating against my skin. The sky is clear as cleaned crystal and bubblegum blue. I settle back on the warm leather seat of the car and embrace the feeling. I am totally immersed.

When I was six years old, I lived in Greenwood, Florida. I moved there the summer after I was done with kindergarten. Greenwood is a very small town, the population is only six hundred and eighty-six. It is a very flat land with a lot of very tall trees. The trees would twist and turn and intertwined with each other. There were also a lot of palm trees. I lived in a house not only with my mom, my dad, my little brother and sister, but also seven other people, four dogs and two mice. The very first day I got there I was just playing with the dogs. I eventually ran outside into the backyard without telling anyone. I was wearing flip flops and I didn't think that there would be anything different here than from Iowa. When I was running around

In the morning our mom told us we were going to sell the house and possibly move to a little town named Geneseo. I’ve only been there once, to get gas on the way to our grandma and grandpa’s. The news was surprising and made me a little upset. I’d have to leave my friends I’ve grown up with.

My life began on a warm September Night in Great Falls, Montana. I was 6 pounds, 12 ounces and as much as everyone knew, I was serene. I was born into a family of mammoth size. My dad was adopted so technically I had three sets of Grandparents. I also had a brother, and several Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins. After my birth almost everyone in my family came to see me. Everyone in my family lived a matter of hours from us so it was easy for them to come. My family does have some strains now, but as far as I knew, we were content. Two weeks after I was born, my brother had to go to Spokane to have a surgery on his hip. He had fetal alcohol syndrome and that caused him to myriads of physical and mental disabilities. My parents left with my 15 year old cousin for 5 days while they were in Spokane. For the first year in my life, my parents could rarely see me. They were always back and forth with my brothers doctor appointments.

I was at a loss of words. My whole life was here, and in an instant, it was being ripped away from me. The issue was that I wasn’t just moving schools or moving to another city nearby, I was moving to a city an hour and a half away. I didn’t know how to react. My parents noticed this, so they each stepped out of the kitchen, my mom squeezing my shoulder as she walked past me. I stood there for a couple minutes, not thinking, not speaking, not moving. I simply took a deep breath, and finally sat down, listening to nothing but the

We moved to the house on Wilhoyt Lane when I was in fourth grade. Before we moved to the house on Wilhoyt Lane we lived in a two story house in the middle of some fields. Before my dad got a job in Yerington my mom was a teacher in Fernaly and my dad did tile. The house that we lived in was a one story house that was in a decent sized neighborhood, with a small backyard. The house that we lived in Fernaly was definably smaller than the houses we lived in Yerington.

After finishing viewing the apartment we could potentially move in and then deciding that it wasn’t what we wanted we walked out. While walking home and feeling the bright warm sun touch my skin I recall my mom and an old friend seeing each other again after years of not seeing each other. Since they wanted to catch up they decided we should all go to the park across the street from the apartment we initially wanted to rent. While walking to the park with my mom, siblings, my mother’s friend and her kids, I could feel the excitement that I was feeling while seeing the green and red playground. They sat down on a khaki plastic bench that was located just in front of the slides in the park. All of us kids decided to play tag and after a while

“Go pack. We’re moving next week,” was the first thing said to me one morning in fourth grade. As a fourth grader, this sentence was a stab to my little heart. I stared wide eyed at my parents, too shocked to say anything. The silence between my parents and I felt like an eternity. Breaking the silence I silently stuttered, “W-why do we have to m-move?” My parents broke eye contact with me; their faces were filled with shame. My mom looked at me and silently muttered, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

My senior year of high school marked the eighth school I attended. My parents were never together and my mother moved to New Orleans when I a three, leaving behind all family, friends, and familiarity. Kansas was boring and she yearned for a change. Raising a toddler in an unfamiliar state all alone was admiral, I never had to want for anything; my mother took care of me. After hurricane Karina and two years post Katrina, money fell short and life got difficult, rather than let me suffer for what she couldn’t provide, she sent me to live with my father in Texas. Hurt to be away from my mother, I also admired her determination to ensure I was provided for and educated.

I turned to my left and all that I saw was flat land, bodacious white clouds, and a clear blue sky, when I looked to my right I saw a 200 pound man drooling over the complimentary peanuts. Suddenly I hear a loud screech followed by a deep voice saying “we will be landing in less than thirty minutes.” As my face exploded with excitement all that I could think about was the adventures that my Nana would go on this summer. As our plane had gently landed and gradually made its way to the unloading gate, the Captain made his final speech and released us to depart the plane. I knew that my Nana would be waiting for me right by the gate. When I met eye contact with her I sprinted to her and gave her a huge hug. The first

Mother and I moved to a fairly large house in the middle of Charleston, South Carolina. We moved right after my father died. My parents never got along so mother wasn’t very torn up about his passing. I am a sixteen year old girl, who’s name is Elizabeth, and it was not difficult for me to adjust to these changes. My parents were going to get a divorce soon so something like this was basically expected to happen sooner or later. He wasn’t always the best man. He was very vulgar and abusive most of the time he was around. It made me long for they days he never came home or for him to be gone. Maybe it was a good thing that we moved away and got away from all of those nightmares at our so called “home”.