Personal Narrative-Trever

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.

When I was younger I had always been described as mature. Although I wasn’t anywhere near being “mature”, it was a word always used to describe me, well-mannered and mature. While my brother was goofy and social, I was shy and serious. We were twins yet total opposites. As a child, because that was the word almost always associated with me, it crae unusual, almost toxic idea about myself. I had to be mature to be what people liked about me. So, it never occurred to me to be able to not take myself seriously and say something like “Oops that was dumb” and laugh it off. For some reason that didn’t make sense to me to say silly things like that.

I was ready. This was how we were going to start off the season. Everyone was ready, thinking this was it. We wanted to be the best team on the ice. The coaches came into the room saying, “Let’s go, boys. Let’s start the season off on fire . . . big win today!”

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.

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

t all started when my dad came dashing into my room saying “pack up your things were leaving whenever you are ready”. He planned a surprise father son trip out west to see the Grand Canyon and other National Parks. So I hopped out of my bed with so much excitement and immediately started packing my clothes. We started loading up the car to the max with our tent and suitcases. As soon as we finished, we hit the road. The road trip started out as the perfect father son trip, but that all changed once we hit the eight hour mark and decided to take a break at a rest stop. We were coming out of the building when we saw my dad’s old friend Ted. He was a very short man with long brown hair that came with a scruffy beard in dire need of a trim. He

I wake up to a red blaring light haunting my face. As I start to regain my vision, I see a contraption of some-sort, wires, buttons and the salience of the contraption, the display. The display is made of red digital lights and a steel frame. A stale 60 is written on the display. I look around the room and it's an eerie white colour, it's empty and bleak. I assume it's a white void, It leads to nowhere as the door must be seamlessly integrated into the wall. Then on the corner of my eye, I see a body. I assume it's a female as it's long silky blonde hair fills a fourth of the room. She's wearing a puffy grey jumper and black jeans with strands of fabric hanging out. From my angle, she looks dead, but I want to inspect her body. I creep towards it, realising this floor doesn't creak like home. I proceed cautiously. As I

“Wemonade for sale,” a small, tan kid chirped with a big ol’ boxy grin stretched across his face. Taehyung liked to set up his lemonade stand in front of the flower shop; it always smelled nice and the owners of the flower shop were his friends. His stand was a square, fold-up table with a poster taped-up and drawn in crayon saying “LEMONADE for 5 cents,” and underneath that had been scribbled in, “with umbrellas :).” Despite the fact many people ignored him, Taehyung still was full of cheer.

Everyone remembers a time in their lives when their mom came through and saved the day. Mine happened to happen at 1:30 AM on a Saturday morning. To fully understand the story I’ll give some background.

I open the door, and let Anna walk in first. “Anna do you want to go right up to my room?” “No, I want to see your parents first.’’ She answers. “Ok, I think there in the dining room.” I tell her We walk in to the dining room, and see my mother crying, and my dad has his head in his hands. “Mom, are you okay?” I ask. “No, not really. Why are you home so early, did you hear what happened to Anna’s Mom and brother?” “I’m home early because Anna asked the superintendent if I could come with her here, and yes I’ve heard.” “Oh, I didn’t see you Anna. Are you okay is there anything you want me to get you?” My mother asks worriedly. “No, I’m fine.” Anna says with no emotion what so ever. The phone starts ringing, and everybody just stares at it. Anna walks over to it and picks it up. “Hello.” I hear her say. “OMG. YES, we made it here in one piece. Don’t freakin call us again!!” I here Anna yell to the phone it must be the school that called. She slams the phone down. The phone rings again. Anna picks it up and brings it to her ear slowly then says quietly and threatening. “I thought I tol-. “Hello sheriff, what would you like.” She asks, as sweetly as she can in this moment, which isn’t very sweet. “This is her” I hear her say “Yes, I would like to see him.” Then she sets the phone down softly. “Anna, what did the sheriff want?’’ I ask her. “They found him” she answers abruptly. “Found who” I ask “Him, the murderer.” She says normally. “Anna, why did you agree to see him.” She never answered the question, so I asked a different one.”Anna you want a change of clothes?” “Yes” She

I didn’t make any mistakes. I was the perfect gentleman every girl likes to talk about, but would run for the hills if they had to put up with a blank piece of paper. Well, the evening was over now and I was pulling up to her front door. To my surprise, her parents were waiting for the two of us with bright smiles.

February 4, 2007 was a day of celebration for my whole family. That day my family gathered around in the living room and cheered on the Colts to victory in the Super Bowl. This day was the anticipated highpoint of my school conversations for the past week. My dad was in his leather chair drinking his favorite Raspberry Snapple Tea. My mom, siblings and I were crowded around on leather couches in our living room. We were all close in age. I was ten years old in fourth grade, my sister was eleven in fifth grade, and my brother was thirteen in sixth grade. I didn’t understand football that much as a fourth grader, but I always looked forward to the Super Bowl commercials. I still remember one of the commercials that affected me the most. In the

As the doors opened I saw the white ceramic floor, the red and grey lockers, and the alphabetically arranged hallways. I was in an American High school. At this moment a jolt of energy gushed through me and made me feel on top of the world, however as the day progressed, my head started to observe the ceramic floor more than the diverse group of people in this school. I felt like I was an “inbetweener” and I am not even bi-racial. This feeling of being an outcast made me homesick. A few months into the school year my English Two teacher gave me a book called “The Gifted Hands.” It was after reading this book, about Ben Carson, I realized I am not the only kid in high school that is feeling out of place. I learned that although our experiences might differ, we were all students trying to skip these few years and become a senior.

I called Walter to supper, Walter called down and said he wasn’t hungry. I knew then and there something was wrong because he never turns down my food. Well then I called him for the second time and he finally walked down, once my eyes looked him up and down and saw he had happened. My husband looked at me and I looked at him we sat down, but before we ate I asked Walter why he was all bruised up. He didn’t answer so my husband asked him what was wrong the Walter said my leg stiff, as Walter limp over to my side of the table . My husband stared at him. Finally, in frustration my husband stood up and told Walter to stand up and drop his pants, when I saw the bruises, the cuts, and dried blood, I thought someone had beat my boy to an inch of