Personal Narrative: Change Is Unchangable

Danielle DeLoux
Ms. Spradling
AP Language and Composition, R4
October 7, 2010
Change is Unchangeable I loved spending my summers in California with my Tio. Every week was the same; a comforting and change free schedule. Practically every morning we would wake up at around nine and eat chadillso and egg for breakfast, we would run errands if we needed to, go to the bookstore or a movie in the afternoon, and take a walk in the evenings. Weekends we would visit my Aunt and my cousin Lauren, who was three years older than me, and Sundays we would wake up early, go to 7:30 mass, and then spend the rest of the day on the beach. My Tio was about 68 when I started flying out in 1st grade. He was kind and gentle, guiding and firm. I loved
I remember my Mom’s long, dark brown, curly hair, which would tangle and make a mess yet it appeared flawless at the same time. I remember my Dad’s short shorts, which clearly went higher above the knee than we ever want to see now a days. I remember my little brother’s chubby cheeks, and teaching him to count to five. I remember my Tio’s wheezy and comforting laugh. I remember many things. Things I miss dearly. Why do things have to change? Why do we have to grow up? These are all questions I find asking myself regularly. My older brother is now a junior in college, engaged to be married and in the ROTC of the Army – a grown man, age of 20, that no longer plays cards, or paints, or draws. My Mom’s hair is now cut to shoulder length, more of a wavy rather than a curly, with highlights and dyes covering her gray hairs that show signs of growing old, and brushed nicely. My dad now wears knee length, khaki shorts. My little brother has slender sculpted cheeks, and can now count infinitely. My Tio’s laugh is non-existent. People are always changing. The realization that the only thing in someone’s life that remains constant is the constant changing does not comfort
Whether its physical appearance, incapability of activity, dwelling in assisted living, forgetting, being in pain, being lonely, people tend to not like the idea of age. My reason is change, which involves all of these qualities of becoming senile. Changing from skin that will spring right back, to skin that droops and lingers; changing from running miles on end, to having to catch your breath on a short walk to the mailbox down the street; Being independent and self-reliant, to having to rely on others in a place where others also can’t rely on themselves; to remembering the exact date and time of the moment something happened, to forgetting who your own children are; to the painless bending over to sit in a chair, to the excruciating pain in your hand with writing something down on a piece of paper; to having a spouse and children that always need you to being alone and children who maybe visit once a year. My Tio was a soldier. He endured all of these qualities of aging, and much more. Knowing that everyone will go through the same thing someday is sad and