Personal Narrative

As the United States slipped into the Great Depression in the early 1930s, President Hoover's most generous response was to lend government funds to__________________

I was born in Spain 1978, era of political transition. Few years earlier the country was under the rule of dictator regime, General Franco that ended with his death. The same year I was born, a new constitution was approved by democratic elected parliament that provided individual rights, also demolished death penalty and allowed divorce.

In june 1994 my mama found out that she was pregnant, this was a shock because my mom wasn’t suppose to be able to birth another child. I became the little miracle growing inside her. The doctor told my parents he was going to do everything he could so I could live, he was a christian man and he told her “we’re going to pray that God does a miracle.” December 5th 1994, a c-section was performed and I was born a premature baby that weighed 2.5 pounds.

The summer of 2013 was one of the best for me. It changed the word “sister” to me forever. NO life shattering events occurred – that I specifically recall – during the summer of 2013. That summer was different than all previous ones because I was going to be beginning my high school career, and at the same time, my older sister was going to be concluding hers. At the time, it didn’t occur to me that this would be the start of a lifelong friendship. Typically, my sister hung out with her friends and I hung out with my friends. That was it. We didn’t have much in common at the time. That was the summer I realized my sister was my best friend, instead of just my annoying sister.

As a child I remeber a day that my brother’s father put his hands on my mother. The visual pops up in my head sometimes and it just makes me know that if my mother can get through that I can get through anything. It was a bright day and I was preparing myself for school, I wasn’t no older that 12 at the time. My regular routine was done and I sat on the couch waiting for my mother walk out her bedroom door. I heard a little bit of bickering and arguing but I paid it no mind. Momment later my mother rushed out her room one arm through her jacket signaling for me to walk out the door. Before I grasp the door handle I hedard the gasp of my mothers voice and immediatly turned around to find my mom forced onto the couch by this big buff figure.

Some of my fondest childhood memories are of camping trips my parents would take me on starting at a very young age. These memories consist of walking a dark forest trail in the middle of the night, black bags hanging from the hands of all the young children with hopes of catching the mysterious snipe that had been roaming the woods, gathering around warm fires on cool nights with people you barely know and hearing out their past adventures, hoping to one day to take their place with adventurous of my own, getting poison ivy rashes from roaming too far off the trail, scraping up my elbows and knees tumbling over and through rough trails, and getting a fishing hook to wedge itself deeply into my palm. Every day was some plan to try

As we were approaching our street, we were blocked by policemen telling us to find another route, and then I realised this must be something serious. My father and I park at the end of the street and ran to my house just to see that my four-bedroom, single-family house that I have called home for fifteen years, was engulfed in flames. My initial reaction was to run into the house because I assumed my family was still inside. It took two firefighters holding me back before I realized what I was about to do. I began to wonder why they were not already trying to put out the fire when I was suddenly grabbed by my mother telling me that they were still trying to retrieve my grandmother from inside. An unexplainable feeling came over me with the thought that I could not do anything to help but watch and hope. Thankfully, everyone made it out of my house fire safely, but that night sparked something inside me.

When I was a young child I would love to hear my parents tell me that we were going on a trip. I would be full of excitement, because I knew that we would be going to a place that I had never seen before. My parents, my brother, and I would pack our luggage and venture out in our small gray minivan. Three of my most cherished memories in our minivan are when we went to Disney World, the beach, and the mountains.

My earliest memory I remember as a child is around the age of two years old. My Mother would put me in the playpen but I refused to stay. I was able to climb out of it. I remembered my Mother’s face expression that let me know that I better not climb out of the playpen again. This was one of my earliest memories of her setting her boundaries. When I got older, my Mother told me about the situation. She needed to clean and/or cook so she had to put me in the playpen. At the age of two years old, I just wanted to explore and didn’t want to stay in the playpen. This set the tone between us moving forward.

The childhood years have a great influence on a person’s life. In fact some say that a person’s childhood years are the most important years of his or her life. I agree that a person’s childhood years are the most important years of his or her life because of importance of having a good nutrition, the way they are nurtured, and last but not least learning to develop relationships with other people.

It was Monday, June 9, 2014 and I'm sitting at my grandparent’s back porch having a normal conversation as I always would. We were talking about our plans and what we were going to do the next day together. It was summertime, so we were planning on going out to get breakfast around 9 A.M. at our local favorite restaurant, American Table. We continued to talk for awhile, but it was starting to get late and time to go to bed. I said my goodbyes and walked home as we were next door neighbors and only lived 15 feet away. As I lay sound asleep in my bed and morning came we were startled by the sound of pounding on our front door. My mom hurried down the stairs and to the door where my next door neighbor was frantically saying “hurry you need to go next door to your dads, something has happened.” My mom started yelling up to my brother and I to get out of bed and hurry to my grandpa's to see what was going on. What I saw as I ran next door to my grandparents is something i'll never forget. The bright flashing red and white lights of the ambulance and the EMTs rushing into my grandparents front door.

The lightning struck again and as I lay on my side holding my arm, I see my mother staring back at me, not blinking, not moving, not breathing. “Mommy” my voice came out in squeaks. She didn’t answer me. I followed her hand to see what she was holding onto and I could only glance for a moment. I refused to look again. She was holding my brothers hand, his lifeless hand. Sobs started to pour out of me, but I couldn’t hear myself. I wanted my mommy and my brother here. What is happening? I lay there in what could only be blood, their blood and I scream. I was still holding my arm, with my brother’s shoe tucked in my armpit. The tears ran into the corners of my mouth and it tasted like salty pennies. Lights started to flash on the ceiling, but I didn’t move, I just screamed, tasting the blood and tears that ran down my face. I heard bangs in the background of my own screams and then there were faces in front of my eyes. Their mouths were moving, but I didn’t understand anything they said to me. They tried touching me and I started to thrash at them and drag myself to my mother’s side.

As I reflect over my life, and not able to change the situation. I can recall the traumatic event I encounter. I remember back as child being physical, emotionally, and mentally abused. There were times when my sibling and I did not have no food or running water in the house. We would have to go to my grandmother house to eat dinner or to get food and get water from off the side of the side in order for us to take a bath. The three of us would use the same water to bath in. life was hard for us coming up. My mother receive child support from my father, and she would take the check and go get high with it. One night I remember waking up in the middle of the night because the window was opening and the wind was blowing hard and it scared me in my sleep. I wake up looking for my mother and she was nowhere to be find. She had left us in the apartment by ourselves so, my sister and I went and sat in the hallway and waited to someone came along. My

Dawn til dusk, everyday, all summer long, my mother was working. Running through the halls of a hospital helping people who lost any hope of seeing tomorrow. The running didn't stop though. She would come home at night and keep exercising. My sibling, mother and I would go up and down the hills in our neighborhood. while we would take long walks, my mother always had advice for us. My mother always talked about how God created a beautiful world. She also, would say every day, “thank God for your day, it may change.” When people say change, you think of a hair cut or a new pair of shoes. Change does not only mean that, change may mean something being gone forever. Most people take everything for granted. I mean, I took everything for granted, I was only 7. The next day everything could be different. For me it was a few months before my life was upside down. I was not sure if I would ever talk to my mother again.

My childhood was anything but dull. From soccer games to building high-end forts, there are few memories I have of an uneventful childhood. Growing up with 3 older siblings gave some advantages, along with some disadvantages. Yes, I could earn my parent’s attention most of the time, but I couldn’t go on certain rides at the water park, or stay up as late as my siblings. There came a point in my life when all my siblings were in school and my mom was working throughout the day, leaving my dad to keep me company. I always awaited the time when I sat in the backseat of the car driving to my sibling’s school, knowing that I would see them soon. I was a happy child and always aspired to do everything that my siblings did, even though I was many years younger. I would not trade my cherished experiences of my childhood for anything, and I’m writing this to share some of my many childhood memories.