Reality Was Whispering At Me

It all started on a warm sunny day, my dad had just arrived from Michigan. He came into the house gave my siblings, my mother and me a hug and told us the big news. “We are moving to Michigan” he said. He said it so calmly as if expecting my siblings, my mother and myself to react in a good way. Immediately I started to panic, I didn’t want to leave the place I grew up in. I was only eleven years old, I didn’t know how the people in Michigan would be. Finally I spoke “ I don’t want to move dad, I love it here!” which he responded with “I’m sorry but we are going to move because we can’t afford to live here anymore” He said this so emotionless as if not knowing how this could affect me. I hardly got any sleep that night for the fact that my parents were arguing for what felt like all night, but in reality was just an hour.

I yelled “Run... Run to the house hurry!” We ran as fast as we could.

Ellis Island was referred to as “a police station, but a palace.” This was the reference used to describe the island during the great immigration period. This reference all depended on how people were treated throughout their journey. It could be referred to as a “police station” because there was a discrimination between rich, middle and poor class; immigrants were put through an inspection process in which they were checked without their knowledge of what was going on and if anything was wrong, then they would be branded with chalk and put through further inspection. For most people, this was a difficult encounter. The island could be referred to as “a palace” because the immigrants were given good hospitality throughout their stay and Ellis

My dad was getting dressed nice in a collared shirt and slacks. My aunt Keziah was on her way over to watch my brothers and I was going to a friend’s house. Today the court would decide whether or not we live with my mom or dad. I finally understood. My dad loved my mom. He left because he had too, not because he wanted too. I heard him on the phone saying that it is best for him but not for his children. What was good for us was being where there was no abuse. No aggression. I do not blame you, dad. I believe you have changed. And he did.

“Welcome home Father! We have missed you so much,” I cried. “Thank you, Mary I’ve missed you as well,” he said with a quick smile quickly turning back into a frown. “What is the matter; did I do something wrong,” I say getting frightened. “Oh no sweetheart, it is definitely not you it’s just that... never mind. Where is your mother?” “She went outdoors to hang the laundry,” I replied, biting my lip knowing that it’s my job to do the laundry.”Thank you,” he yells, already out the door. As I make my way outside, I see my father worriedly talking to my mother as a look of

I grabbed my little sister and we darted in house and slammed the door as if a raging bull was after us.

I opened my eyes to the sight of shining lights blinding my eyes above me. Loud beeping noices came from the machines next to me. When I turned to my left I saw my mom sitting on the chair next to me. I soon realized where I was. The hospital When I was around the age of seven or eight, I had an older friend - my mom's friends daughter-who was depressed. She would always rant to me about her struggles and AI was there to listen. One day Haley was talking to me about her stress in school and friends and she stopped in the middle of her sentence, pulled up her sleeves with an emotionless look on her face. Underneath her sleeves on her wrists, were deep red scars. Haley explained to me why she inflicted these on herself and told me that it

Unexpectedly, my father called and with an unsteady voice explained, “I had to take your mother to the emergency room, and she is now being admitted to the hospital.” At age 13, this phone call began the most dreadful time of my life. Prior to this event, I was exceedingly dependent on my parents and even struggled with separating from them. In the beginning of my mother’s hospital stay, my familymy parents and two, younger sisters were constantly divided. My father stayed in the hospital with my mother, while my sisters and I would switch between caring family members and friends. Eventually I grew tired of different environments and decided that staying home alone was the far better option. As a result, I appreciate independence and know how to solely maintain a home.

From the moment my parents picked me up from school, I knew something was wrong. There was this uncomfortable silence hanging in the air as we got our food and sat down in Five Guys. My sister and I kept glancing around the table as we waited for someone to say something first. Finally, my mom broke the silence and I thought my world was crumbling down. I don’t even know how my sister felt in that moment, but I knew it was harder for her. Our mom was deployed to Japan for two years. In those two years, we’d have to look out for each other, but especially for our dad because he didn’t know the first thing about taking care of two girls on his own.

As a young girl, I never quite understood the importance my dad’s job had on me until I became much older. Throughout my childhood I was often mistreated out of the sight of my parents. From brutal words to simple exclusion, I never really fit in at my church. I was constantly separated from all of the children because I was the Pastor’s

Driving under the influence of alcohol has affected and devastated countless people’s lives. Driving under the influence is one of the most dangerous situations you can put yourself or someone else into. The evidence against driving while intoxicated is massive and it has left a long trail of broken dreams and lives. If you drink and drive, not only do you possibly put yourself at risk, but your passengers and pedestrians, and other people on the roads. According to the most recent statistics by the National Commission Against Drunk Driving is that 17, 000 Americans die each year in alcohol-related traffic crashes and 600,000 Americans are injured. (National Commission Against Drunk Driving, 2003). That’s an average of one fatality every

Every night, as I sat on the table with my younger brothers assisting them with their homework, I hear a familiar sound at the door. As she walks her heels click, and I can hear her searching her bag for her keys, the next thing I know the keys are in the lock and as it turns me and my younger brothers’ jump. We run to the door and indeed we scream in unison “Mommy’s home”, one by one she gives us a hug and a kiss. My mother asks us how our day was, and if we finished our homework, she then looks to me and said “did you cook and assist your younger ones with their homework”; I replied “yes mom”. As I warm the food, I take my mother’s purse, jacket, and shoes put them away and prepare the table for her to eat dinner. As I glance at the

Having my dad around all the time wasn’t my everyday routine. I’d see him once or twice a week so I wasn’t very much used to see him every day. One day I came home after school and he and my mom were on the balcony talking, the notice I was staring, they both looked at me and called for a family meeting by the tone of their voices I could tell there was

I was playing by myself, running like crazy. For a 6 year old child, malls are boring. So I was trying to have fun by myself. Malls in USA are dangerous for little children, especially if the child is foreign. In addition, there were lots of kidnapping cases in LA back then.While I was trying to have fun, my mom was shopping; so it was my father’s job to look after me. But as always, my father had something more important to do and ignored me. Only in a second, I realized that I can’t see my parents. The eye connection with my father was lost. I tried to look for him but because of the crowd I couldn’t. I was alone, trying to find a way.

To this day, I can still remember standing at the end of my driveway watching my mother arrive home from the bus stop. This day was different; she was not coming home empty handed. In fact, she had stopped at a yard sale on the way home and bought a prize for me, a doll named Suzy. This memory, from the age of two, embraces the story of my mother and my entire childhood. In Indianapolis, Indiana in September 1980, I was born to a single mother. Throughout her life, she worked for the phone company in downtown Indianapolis. Even though she raised us through hardships and despair, she always took the time to love my brother and me outwardly. Until second grade, I have no recollection of my father visiting more than three occasions. At last, in fourth grade we began to spend weekends at his house and with his family. Sadly, when I was eleven we learned that my father had cancer. One week before Christmas, after a school music program, I read his obituary in the paper and told my mother he had passed away. From that moment, our family forever changed, specifically my relationship with my mother.