What Is The Experience Of My Life

For the majority of my life, I had been shy, even though it didn’t seem like it most of the time, I was scared to death when I met new people. I know that it sounds extremely trivial, but I feel that when you first meet someone, you’re ultimately giving them their first impression of yourself and that is a lot of pressure. It seemed almost certain that I would lead a life of being a social wallflower until March 2017, more specifically, March 28th, 2017. This day was and still is important to me because I learned how to be confident, and through my experience, it taught me something that I will hold onto forever. Prior to this day, I was an extremely introverted person and rarely went out of my way to make friends. As a volunteer at day

Military families grow up with the same experiences; an absence parent figure, no real place to call home, and distance within the family, however my parents made an effort to keep our life as normal as possible. Although I only saw my father for two week intervals every couple of months, he was never an unknown character to my younger self. We had regular video and phone conversations when he was available, my parents discussed a decision together before reaching an agreement, and when me or siblings got in trouble we had to call him and explain the situation. The importance of communication, love, and friendship my mother stressed over the years led to a great relationship with my parents and my two siblings despite the large age difference

I was used to visiting family in the hospital; for the first part of my life, I spent nearly every day with my grandmother and great grandmother to watch my great have her dialysis done. I was around three when she passed on, and at the time I hadn’t realized the severity and high stakes that a hospital can suggest. I would later discover, at the age of thirteen, the urgency and pain that hospitals can cause when my grandfather Allison passed away. Seeing him hooked up to all of the strange machines and devices that solely could prolong his life has been one of the most tragic and saddening experiences of my life. Witnessing some of his final moments has taught me to value life and is ultimately what has driven me into my current path in life.

On Saturday, June 24, 6:00am me and my family were getting ready to go to Omaha .To experience going somewhere far away from home.But that wasn't the only reason why we were going we were .Also going because we wanted to see the zoo some people were talking about it and how wonderful and amazing it was to go there.Everyone was exciting me, my sisters and my mom too because it was are first time that we were going to stay at a hotel.

“Poke the porcupine! Poke, poke poke,” yelled my brother, Matt, as he jabbed his fingers into my ribcage. This game made the three hour car ride to Maine feel like eternity as the middle seat had my name engraved upon it (one of the perks of being the youngest child). My sister stared at the alluring landscape as we drove down the street, welcoming my family to Nana’s house. Pulling into the driveway, I am greeted by Nana, Papa, and Uncle Dave. My siblings and I immediately explored the backyard like adventurers in a new habitat. I traveled down a scenic path, welcoming me to the salty Atlantic. I paddled as hard as I can to keep up with my Nana and Papa kayaking. My whole family then took a hike, screaming every time we saw an apple tree. As we returned to the house, I washed my grass stained shirt and checked my body for ticks as I smelt savory lobster cooking. Crunching on corn and devouring my butter soaked lobster, I looked up at the table and saw a happy family: laughing about our hiking adventures and enjoying time together. As a first grader, I was thrilled to practice my reading skills to my Nana as she corrected my mispronunciations. Maine was a sweet escape, and I never wanted to leave. The only worries in my mind were the grass stains on my shirt, and removing the tick cemented in my leg.

Throughout my life so far I’ve had various unpleasant confrontations to say the least, but this one definitely tops them all. It was just like every other normal school day, having to wake up and go to school all day, come home for an hour or so, then off to my nightly basketball games. The date was January 6th, honestly a day I’ll most likely never forget, so the weather was rather cold and snowy. We played Windber and won that night, the next day was a saturday and the basketball team had a double-header to make up at Blacklick. After the Windber game I knew it was in my best interest to get home and rest up for what the next day had in store. Shortly after arriving home I received some texts and a phone call from my best friends stating how they found two dogs left out in the cold with no dog tags and were unsure of how to react. Not much thought came to my mind besides the fact of how bad I felt for the poor dogs, so I wasn’t of much help. They tried to reach out to the police and several of my other friends but this all fell through. When all else failed I received another call that my friends were driving nearby and asked if it would be alright for them to stop by with the dogs. I then ventured outside to see the dogs which seemed perfectly fine and very cute.

As a nine year old girl, I didn’t think much about life and what the future held for me. I mostly thought about riding my pony, playing with my friends at school, and playing on my family’s farm. I didn't think much about how quickly my life could completely change at any minute.

It was a fine day in Bentonville, Arkansas. I was thinking about all the fun that I would be having this summer with my two best friends, Percy Ross and Warren Drews. It was three o’clock and it was finally summer. This was a great year since I had no major injuries unlike last year when I broke my arm. The following six months were the worst months of my life. To make it even worse, it was during summer. I was injury free for an entire year, until the break occurred.

Waiting at the bach I wait for the family to turn up. The sun is shining on the lake and reflecting back, with the gorgeous different greens in the background. I think to myself on how great and peaceful this holiday is going to be. As the siblings turn up it becomes more exciting and eventful. All the plans of what we are going to do, get thrown around, everyone is smiling with enjoyment and laughter. Butterflies in my stomach are going crazy, flying everywhere, I stop and wonder where dad could be but then I think ‘oh, he’s probably just stopped for some food on the way down’.

One hour later and my life became changed forever. My loving and caring family I bonded with, would no longer be the same. The long walks with my mom in the evening would soon become a distant memory. Decorating for the holidays was just around the corner and I would have to hang up the stocking on the chimney without her. The sweet, rich, chocolate brownies she made every Friday night would leave my taste buds empty. Her hugs that made me feel loved when I was sad would now be a thought in my head, and our long talks about growing up and finding my way would be cut short.

It was the summer before my eighth grade year. I was thirteen years old and so excited for the upcoming school year. I earned a position on both the mixed and girls select choir. I loved my school, I had a great group of friends, and life was good; or so I thought. On a muggy 100 degree July afternoon, my dad took my little sister and I on an outing. We walked to the nearby 7-11 gas station for finger freezing milkshakes. Once we purchased our chilly beverages, we proceeded walking to Brentwood park. We sat at a picnic table worn down by time. Etchings of hearts with initials inside covered the table like wrapping paper. The three of us chatted about summer plans and asked “get-to-know-you” questions. After about half an hour, there was a lull in the conversation and all that could be heard was the slurping of the last drops of cookies ‘n cream milkshakes. That’s when dad said he had some news. He announced that he received a job offer on an army base, which was cool because he had been wanting to find a new position. Then the bomb dropped. The job was in the Republic of the Marshall Islands and I had no clue where that was. We had 2 months to pack up, say our goodbyes, and leave. September 19th, 2013, we embarked on our new adventure. We flew from Washington to Colorado to Hawaii and on the 21st we arrived on Kwajalein. As soon as we stepped off the plane, we were bombarded by sponsors and my dad’s co-workers. The Chief Medical Officer, our family’s sponsor, show us around

I tend to believe that my life has been fortunate compared to families in other places of the world, but also similar to many of those families. I was born in Hidalgo, Texas to a poor, low-income family. I lived in Reynosa, Mexico for the first four years of my life where I learned to speak Spanish and basic knowledge thanks to my mother. Since I was the first born, my parents have always been overprotective of me. When my sister was born in 2004, we moved to Pharr, Texas, where my parents built a house. My father worked long hours day after day to be able to provide for us while my mother took care of us and the house as a housewife.

I stepped on American soil in 2013 unaware of the challenges I would come to face. But, what is life without a challenge? I left behind part of my family, the place where I grew up, the friends that I grew up with, and the park where I would play every day after school. Nevertheless, I was not the only one surrendering my life’s work; my parents were losing much more. They were giving up all the sleepless nights they spent studying to become doctors; although they still preserve the knowledge they acquired, they knew that here, they would not receive the same recognition they held in Cuba. But as my Mom said to me, “all that matters is that you and your little sister have the future that we were denied.”

Hearing, “ You have now earned your wings,” was a proud moment for my sister, my

Since I was little I’ve had a passion for cooking and baking. I loved to cook, from soup to stir fry and from brownies to cakes. When I cook, I feel like I can do anything, and it brings me joy when I see the people I care for enjoy it as much as I do. Cooking has brought me closer to the people in my life and has brought me closer to my heritage. One day I wanted to challenge myself and my cooking skills to see how far I could get and what I could achieve. When thinking about the next type of food I wanted to cook, I started to enjoy a different type of animation. I started watching a lot of Hayao Miyazaki as well as Bob Kuwahara and Makoto Shinkai. With this in mind, I wanted to know everything about authentic Japanese dishes. I wanted to recreate and relate my food to a new hobby and a new interest in my life. When researching different Japanese dishes I found it a tad difficult to find authentic dishes. It wasn’t until I researched a whole lot more about Japan’s culinary culture that I found out why.