Tiffany Nguyen Analysis

My best friend Leah Nepomuceno is one of the strongest people I know, especially when it comes to family. Family to her is everything and she has done all she can to try and keep hers together as a whole. We were in sixth grade swinging on the swings outside at recess, whispering and giggling about our usual gossip when she received news from one of our teachers that we knew was serious by the look on her face and fear in her voice. She came up to us and told her she needed to go the office and that she was being dismissed, she gave me permission to walk with her inside. On the short but long felt walk inside Leah's heart was pounding, her hands were sweating, and her eyes were slowly filling with tears. Her mom was

In the fall of 2012, my mother almost succumbed to her illness. I had just begun my freshman year of high school midst angry conversations between my parents and the threat of separation. It would seem as if they bickered about the most irrelevant things, almost as if they had no other reason to fight other than the fight itself. Those moments were excruciatingly lonely, my father worked until the dead of night and my mother would come home exhausted from treatment. I now know that there was no one who felt more unvalued than my mother. I wish I had the ability to iron away this blunder that destiny had fabricated, however foolish this desire is.

It’s the day I have to move to the army's campsite. I grab my bag and swing them on my shoulder, it weighs a ton it feels like my shoulder’s gonna break. Sophie was peeking through my room door, as I was about to stand up she ran to the living room curled up into a ball making loud thud and sobbing noises. Outside of the house, I hug my mom as tight as I could, I don’t want to move any single inch of my bone. I want to stay like this forever. I felt a drop of water behind my shoulder and I know that it was her tears. I don’t want to leave them but I have to. It was time to let go but she didn’t want to, I grab her arm and slightly push them back.

That day when I returned home from school, my mom’s boyfriend called me asking to speak to my grandmother. Typically, Gus would call my grandmother himself if he wanted to speak with her, which was rare. I found out about my mom going to the hospital from my grandmother after that phone call. The doctor told my family that a stroke afflicted her in the middle of the day. My mom confused the date with her birthday, had trouble getting words out and remembering our family member’s names. The nurse had to take her for walks periodically and exercise her legs and arms because they were weak. Seeing my mother in this condition made me appreciate my mother and everything she does for me tremendously. However, I was terrified for my mother’s health.

One afternoon I was at Mama´s General store buying some provisions and I saw Mama’s little granddaughter Marguerite, who was extremely shy and I had seen her before with her brother when they came to the town. She was quiet, she had been mute for five years after an incident that changed her life.At the age of eight she had been raped by her mother´s boyfriend. Her uncles had killed the man and she had felt responsible for his murder therefore as à result of guilt she went into a mute stage. After I had payed for the provisions, mama had asked me if I need Bailey her oldest grandson to carry my bags, but instead of him, I wanted Marguerite to carry my bags, for a reason. That being said, I wanted to help her break out of her nutshell, and for her to speak again. The moment I saw Marguerite, I knew there was something amazing about her which no other girl had in town. Therefore, I had told mama that I would like Marguerite to carry my bags. Marguerite looked at me as if I was calling her name in a beautiful, tranquil cave that had echoed so softly that It ran so smooth like the wind. Mama and I had exchanged the elderly looks,which Marguerite did not understand by what I had meant, and with mama’s permission it was ok for her to go with me. On the way to my house we had talked about how well she was doing in school but she wasn't talking. She was enticed by the way I was pronouncing her name and would stare at me. She was shocked that I choose her to assist me out of everyone in the town. The walk to my house was overall quiet, she was mute all the way, shy, nervous and was wondering why I chose her to take my bags home with me. I wanted her to know that somebody loved her and that

I thought she would laugh, but she didn’t. We were eating dinner together. My sister and dad were out to a movie. It was quiet, peaceful inside the house. My mother said, “You could be good at that.” When I asked her why she felt that way, she smiled. She said, “I know you’re always telling stories in your head.” She surprised me. I asked her if she thought my sister could be a writer and she said, “Not in the same way.” I wanted her to talk more about who she thought I could be, but my dad and sister came home. My dad was mad that we hadn’t made enough dinner for him, that we hadn’t thought to turn on the porch light, that the pesto had been left on the counter, that he always had to clean up after us.

The following months a winter, cold and gloomy, surrounded the house. My grandmother came to stay with us since my father had fallen into depression and needed help taking care of my sister and I. When my grandmother went grocery shopping my sister would struggle with homework without my grandmother’s help. One day when my grandmother left to go grocery shopping my sister approached me, which was unusual of her since its very rare for her to come to me. Her dark brown hair and big eyes reminded me of my self when I was younger. “I’m hungry” she complained, a question she’s never asked me. My father sleeping and my grandmother away, I was the only one left to take care of her and that terrified me. I had never cared for or known how to care for someone else. All I knew was how to evaluate whether or not someone was caring for another correctly.

Memory is the faculty by which the mind stores and remembers information. memories of adversity in the past will amplify the positive experiences in the present. In the excerpt from the novel, “Ru”, Kim Thuy describes her first experiences as an immigrant in Canada. She is dazzled, blinded and intoxicated by the landscape and surprised by all the unfamiliar sounds and the size of ice sculptures. She is a refugee from Vietnam and has faced many hardships in her life.

Some aspects of Abigail Nguyen's design reference back to several great landscapes of history, such as Ancient Persia's Pasargadae or the Roman peristyle gardens. However, Ms. Nguyen does not just haphazardly imitate any forms and concepts that characterize these great landscapes. Instead, she thoughtfully considers how to properly translate them into a contemporary garden and therefore, chooses features that are appropriate to contemporary life. This demonstrates that Abigail Nguyen is not only a good designer, but well educated in her landscaping field.

One morning, Lisa Gross’ daughter wakes up with a stomach ache and fever. As Lisa calls into work, her daughter, Carly, sighs of relief knowing that her mom is going to be there to comfort and take care of her. Soon the sweet smell of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon buns fills the house. Lisa’s and Carly’s girl’s day begins. Crafts of all different shapes and colors cover the dining room table like presents under a Christmas tree, and the two are both anxious to start their projects. Lisa and Carly joke and chuckle together as if they’re sisters. Over the course of the day, Carly not only feels better, but has a smile across her face with her rosy cheeks standing out. Lisa heart was warmed knowing how much this day meant to her.

I sent her a bracelet of fire rubies on her sixteenth birthday. She always told me it was beautiful and that she wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’m glad she loved it. I would do anything to make her happy. On top of that, it cost me more than a month’s pay. Again, it was worth it. Yet, I’m told that she remembered me more for what I did the night her kitten got run over in the street. She was only six years old and I held her in my arms and wiped away her tears and told her not to cry, and that Flossy was gone for just a little while, for just long enough to get herself a new fur coat, and she would be on the foot of her bed the very next morning. She was so small and precious. She seemed to believe me and quit crying and went to sleep dreaming about her kitten coming back. When she woke up the next morning, there was Flossy on the foot of my bed in a brand-new white fur coat, just like I had said she would be. It wasn’t until a long time later that Mama told her that I had got the pet-shop owner out of bed at four in the morning and, when the man got mad about it, I told him he was either going to go down and sell him the white kitten right then or I’d break his neck. In hindsight, it may not have been the best idea, but it was totally worth it, seeing the look on her happy little

An Important event that happened in my life that happened that connects back to the situation that I’m still going through now is that, One day me and my mother had gotten into an argument because she was frustrated with me she didn’t know what to do with me because I wasn’t doing well in school and I’m still not, But I’m trying though. So she didn’t know what else to but say hurtful words to me , it was the truth. Then I really found out the about the real meaning of “ The truth hurts” myself . But I could understand why she would just say such a thing like that towards me because my family was already going through something. And I had just made things worse, I pushed her to a point that she just couldn’t take it anymore. But at the same time I had so much hatred towards her I was so mad . I thought to myself maybe I was just a mistake, maybe I would have been better off with another family or maybe I would have made my mother’s life better by me not just being born. Their was so many things going through my mind. I had felt so awful because I felt like I was the reason why I kept her from achieving her dreams. I knew I couldn’t stay in the house for one minute.

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.

It was a bone chilling January night; my mom received a call at about 11:15 PM, a call that changed my life forever. My Aunt June was on the other line. She was crying so hard my mother could barely understand her. Through the sobbing my mom finally understood that Brian, my cousin, had been in a horrible accident and she didn’t know how bad it was. My mother jumped out of the bed after she hung up the phone. She screamed up the stairs at my sister and me; it was a nerve shrilling scream. I could hear fear in her voice. My mom was always yelling at us growing up if we forgot to do something. She would even get us out of bed to finish something that wasn’t done completely. This particular

It was May 17th, 2011, it was a normal school day when my brother and I were told that my mom called to say that she was picking us up early. I was anxious, wondering why we were going home early and breaking our usual routine. When my mom came to get us, the first thing that I noticed was that she didn’t greet us with her usual smile. I was 9 years old, very observant, but not able to sense what was to come. We got into the car, when I asked my mom where we were going hoping