House on Mango Street Vignette Project
Vignettes
Contents
1) The Fire in My Father's Hands
2) Practice Till You Get Tired of It
3) The Playful Shadow
4) Not The Usual
5) Home Ruler
6) All Alone
7) Stop Judging!
8) Party Pooper
9) Different Things, Deep Meanings
10) Work, Save, Relax
The Fire in My Father's Hands
When I was a kid, about 5 to 8 years old, my hands would always get cold whenever the surrounding air is chilly. My dad would always tell me to rub them together, like you would in order to make fire. And so I did it. I rubbed and rubbed and rubbed. My fingers grind against each other from the tips of my little fingers to the base of my palm, but none of this worked. My hands still are cold, stone cold. Then my dad said after watching me rub for a whole 3 minutes: You can stop rubbing your hands when they are warm again, as rubbing would make your skin raw. I replied: But they're still cold. Then he told me to hold out my hand and he started rubbing warmth into my hands; his strong, rough hands massaging my palms, my fingers, then suddenly my hands are warm again. After a while, I wondered: will my hands ever become tough and strong like my father's?
Practice Till You Get Tired of It
My Mom is my role model. I guess this is due to the fact that I used to scarcely see my Dad because he comes home really late; he still does, though not as late, while my Mother took care of me ever since she quit the job as the General Manager when I was in 2nd grade. She is the one who is there for me whenever I have a problem, like a robot on standby, but she is also a harsh whip with her discipline though she never hit me. My most notable memory of my Mom is when I sucked at math in 3rd grade. I don't know how to do a problem so naturally, I asked her. However, after she taught the same problem 4 times, I still didn't get it. I was afraid she would get mad, but she didn't and in the end when I finally got it, I asked her why she is so patient. She simply replied "practice makes perfect", an old
Contents
1) The Fire in My Father's Hands
2) Practice Till You Get Tired of It
3) The Playful Shadow
4) Not The Usual
5) Home Ruler
6) All Alone
7) Stop Judging!
8) Party Pooper
9) Different Things, Deep Meanings
10) Work, Save, Relax
The Fire in My Father's Hands
When I was a kid, about 5 to 8 years old, my hands would always get cold whenever the surrounding air is chilly. My dad would always tell me to rub them together, like you would in order to make fire. And so I did it. I rubbed and rubbed and rubbed. My fingers grind against each other from the tips of my little fingers to the base of my palm, but none of this worked. My hands still are cold, stone cold. Then my dad said after watching me rub for a whole 3 minutes: You can stop rubbing your hands when they are warm again, as rubbing would make your skin raw. I replied: But they're still cold. Then he told me to hold out my hand and he started rubbing warmth into my hands; his strong, rough hands massaging my palms, my fingers, then suddenly my hands are warm again. After a while, I wondered: will my hands ever become tough and strong like my father's?
Practice Till You Get Tired of It
My Mom is my role model. I guess this is due to the fact that I used to scarcely see my Dad because he comes home really late; he still does, though not as late, while my Mother took care of me ever since she quit the job as the General Manager when I was in 2nd grade. She is the one who is there for me whenever I have a problem, like a robot on standby, but she is also a harsh whip with her discipline though she never hit me. My most notable memory of my Mom is when I sucked at math in 3rd grade. I don't know how to do a problem so naturally, I asked her. However, after she taught the same problem 4 times, I still didn't get it. I was afraid she would get mad, but she didn't and in the end when I finally got it, I asked her why she is so patient. She simply replied "practice makes perfect", an old