Reflective Essay About My Family

Growing up as a kid, the people I looked up to the most were my parents. As I got older I started to realize how much I started to influence my sister's and started becoming a role model to them. My family growing up hasn't been the greatest family or really even a normal one from what I think a family should actually be. ️

I'm very grateful to have a family that loves me! When the whole family is together, it makes me feel safe, like nothing awful can happen to me; when we are all together they make things easier. My family treats not only me, but others with respect. I always try to avoid thinking about what would happen to me if I didn't have a family. I feel when most people come to think of it, it makes you wonder. Who would you be today? Where would you be today? How would you grow up? It's always those things that get to you. In my opinion, it's safe to say we are all very lucky to be in the country we are in. However, these people include; parents, grandparents, and sister.

I grew up with both of my parents and three siblings, my family is extremely close, so close that everyone needs a break from one another from time to time. My family is far from perfect, I am not the oldest child but I always took on that role as being the oldest sibling. The one who watches my two younger siblings when both of my parents weren’t home. My older brother Aubrey was supposed to be the one who watched over us but he never did. He spent his days locked away in his room, or nat at the house at all. Taking on the role of almost a mother figure to my younger siblings was difficult. I had to learn to be selfless and not just think for myself at an early age. When my mom didn’t come home till after twelve to escape my dads drunkness or my dad was laying out drunk in the bedroom. I was the one who fed my little brother and sister. I was the one who cleaned up the room the three of us shared. I was the one who helped them with their homework, who did my little sister's hair. I didn’t realize how much mature I became because of this responsibility till I was in high school and was referred to as Mom by the basketball team. I’ve always thought that I was the same as any teen immature, reckless, and carefree. That wasn’t the case at all I had many responsibilities like babysitting my siblings,washing and folding our clothes, making sure they get their chores done. I did this because I knew my father drank because of our financial situation, not being able to pay the

Some worse than others, children are known to have their flaws. Making mistakes and learning are all a part of growing up, but for Jace, these mistakes came few and far between. The day Jace entered this world, our family knew he had been a blessing. Being the first “real” grandchild in the family, due to the fact my brother and I were just step grandchildren, belief had it that he would become spoiled; however, that concept was not grasped as quickly as expected. Many qualities including his compassion, willingness to help, and social ability provided the boy with the infectious smile the ability to shine light upon our lives.

When I first saw this sidewalk it reminded me of the town I moved here from, then looking closer at the details around it I realized that the image itself represents me and my family as a whole. I grew up in a small town in West Virginia, my family and I lived in a trailer park on a road called grapevine. It was just me, my older sister, my mother, and my father for about four years, then on halloween of 2006 my younger sister was born. Living in a small house with only two rooms and no other options, we had to put the crib in the closet of my mother’s room. Crime in West Virginia has always been bad. One night while we were all asleep someone shattered the window in the living room broke in and stole our xbox and television. Living in the trailer park with the baby proved to be more dangerous with people constantly moving in and out. People kept breaking in, someone even climbed in through the window of my room. We were all scared and my father was losing his mind with anger, he even punched a hole straight through the ceiling. Then we finally had enough of all the break ins, so we moved in with my grandmother down the road.

Every household does sleepovers a little differently than all the rest, varying in scale and frequency among a wide variety of traits. Around three years ago from the current date, my family made plans for my younger cousins to have a week-long sleepover over at my house. Inside my mind, I was musing, “This better not get too loud.” Each of my cousins had a tendency to get pretty noisy with very little reprieve in-between, and it got amazingly ear-splitting. Tyler, the youngest, was the king of noise as it turned out. He was very bouncy and rambunctious, and verbally fought with my brother literally every single visit.

I twist my fork into the pile of noodles right in front of me in the classiest way possible. I stuff the noodles in my mouth and I'm shocked. These are way better than I ever thought. I stuff even more noodles into my mouth. After five minutes of not so classy eating, I realize that I embarrassed myself in front of my relatives. I look down in embarrassment, but my aunt looks happy. Maybe I'm worrying too much about keeping up a good image in front of my own relatives. Why am I so nervous in front of them? That’s a dumb question because I already know why. Even though they're my biological family, I don't feel a connection to them.

My family is friendly and welcoming when interacting with other people. My cousin who has been living with his Turkish girlfriend for more than 5 years got engaged. The girlfriend’s parents came to our house to meet the rest of the family. On that day, my aunts cooked the finest dish and the house was basically clean and with some bouquets of flowers. Her parents were so delighted on how close my family is and we instantly created a special familial bound with people that we meet for the first time. My family and I have a strong bond, we are always there for another in any situation. I live in Cambria Heights; my neighborhood is full of Caribbean people especially Haitians. If we are talking to someone and we see that they are Haitians, we constantly speak Creole with them rather than talking in a foreign language.

Either “ Cooper no!” or “Cooper stop eating that!”, are two of the most common phrases said in my household. Cooper has successfully eaten half of a water bottle, a cow bone, pens, his own collar while it was on him, he’s chewed up socks, shirts, and tubes of mascara and much more. Cooper is a small black, Miniature Toy Poodle, that enjoys being an inconvenience too keeping things in their rightful spot. Cooper enjoys eating things that could kill him, and one day, it caught up to him.

A mid-forty year old with the soul of a twenty-one-year-old, my aunt Kelly is a complex individual. Whenever she announces her visits, my cousins lock their doors and shut off their phones. Someone signals the rest of our family that Kelly is in the area. Living an hour away in Trenton, she checks in a few times a year. It’s not that my family hates her; she is the life of the party. However, Kelly is an outspoken woman with headstrong opinions and somewhat threatening mannerisms under the influence of alcohol. She is a handful to deal with.

A home is a place where you have lived with your family for so long that it has, in a sense, become a part of you. It can be a structure, a neighborhood, a state or a country. In my case, when I think of home, I initially think of a building, my house. My home, however, is much more than just a house to me. It is also the place where I am always sure to find those I love most, my family. In a generation where there are so many broken homes, I am fortunate to live with and be raised by two parents, who still love each other. I have two older sisters, Sabreena and Trinity, and a dog, a poodle named Puffs. I live in a quaint, four bedroom house in a subdivision called Steeplechase in Avondale, Louisiana. My house is a place of safety and refuge. My neighborhood is full of friendly, familiar faces. I have been smiling, waiving and occasionally talking to these friends and acquaintances since we moved here when I was just two years old. Growing up in this environment has, I’m sure, contributed to certain character and personality traits, which have made me who I am today. I am ultimately a trusting individual, who is both friendly and hospitable.

No one can’t meet a family like mine’s. My family is well diversified. Every family member plays an important role in all my family’s lives. In my family, there are four people: my father, my mother, my little brother and me. My father is one who brings money home and is also responsible for organizing and planning family trips. My mother is the one who is in charge for making meals and makes sure everyone eats at the appropriate times. My little brother is the pet of the family. He actually doesn’t have any responsibilities, for he’s the pet. I am the rock of support in my family. I always go beyond my parents’ expectations. I also support my younger cousins and little brother, by being a role model that they can look up to. Another

Family is the supporting block for every person and when that is taken from you there is many consequences. It can change the mindset of someone and taint it, it can change the way they behave and the things they do. It can take away so much from that person when family is taken away, it can strengthen them or break them. It has and ever lasting effect on the person depending on how close they are to their family. All those moments just become memories of what they lost and can not have anymore. I was one of those people that had to go through that as a young 9 year old. I saw everything changed right in front of me, my life was now different and never will be the same. It is something that definitely impacted me and it is the main reason that I am the person I am today. My mom’s side of the family was taken away, the side that I was the closest too but not exactly in the way you think, nothing bad happened to them, they are still well alive I believe. That’s the thing I don’t know whether or not if they are because the way they were taken away from me had to do with them moving away and cutting all contact with us. It all started from one tragic event that took place that year when they all left.

When I was five years old, my aunt was involved in a really severe car accident. The accident left her in a rehab for a couple of months so she could learn how to walk and do daily activities on her own again. I would always love to visit her every weekend. Being only five years old and not really knowing the main purpose of a hospital, I thought it was a fun and magical place. They had a colossal courtyard where my sisters, cousin, and me would play. They also had an indoor playground where other children my age could run away and play with too. Let’s not forget the amazing food they would serve us during lunch time. However, the whole image of a hospital for me was tainted due to one thing, the elevator.

It was a sunny Friday afternoon in late August, my family and I were getting ready for my brother 's graduation. He was graduating from medical school, it had been a dream of his to become a doctor since the age of ten. As we rode in my parent 's car, I watched the smiles on my parents face appear, the wrinkles vanish and hopes of escaping their past. I heard my brother hum his favorite song as he always did when he was nervous. I watched the baby eagles fly away, through the window, leaving their mothers, transitioning into adulthood. Gazing at my brother it reminded me of when he was born. It was a beautiful sunny day here in Toronto, in the month of may. I was six years old, I had been woken up by grandma “ Sophia wake up” she called. I