Narrative Essay About Moving To High School

“You need to leave, it’s his time,” says the doctor. Shreveport, Louisiana, innocent six year old me strolling away from the hospital room which I watch my grandfather unhurriedly lose his life in. As I walk away in desperation of wanting to see my grandfather one last time I turn my head back to see his wrinkly, run down face and he cracks his last smile at me and attempts to lift his limp arm to wave and be strong for me, the door closes. When the doctors closed the doors my mouth felt dry, my body felt weak, and my breathe felt cold and slowly but surely I felt as if a piece of my soul was being ripped out. I had looked at my mother as I was shedding a tear and that one tear down my soft cheek had the trail of a thousand tears behind it. The doctor was telling my parents all of these big words of how my grandfather was dying and me not understanding anything that’s going on other than the fact that I’m slowly and painfully losing my grandfather to prostate cancer. This moment marked a significant chapter in
My first time going to public school was in the eighth grade. My parents wanted me to sample what public school was like before I go to high school, just to make sure I could handle it. The moving of different schools, cities, and states was a very tough situation for me, because everything I was distinguished into originated from what I saw and learned in Shreveport. I had to differentiate myself in order to get accustomed to this new beginning in Texas. I slowly began to finally cope with my grandfather’s death once I moved to Texas and learned that death was very common and I was never the only one. These experiences from personal death to public schools changed my outlook on many different occasions and I still continue to change today. Today I have learned to be more observant, optimistic, straightforward, exemplary, and most of all