A Visit to Grandmother by William Melvin Kelley Chig knew something was wrong the instant his father kissed her. He had always known his father to be the warmest of men‚ a man so kind that when people ventured timidly into his office‚ it took only a few words from him to make them relax‚ and even laugh. Doctor Charles Dunford cared about people. But when he had bent to kiss the old lady’s face‚ something new and almost ugly had come into his eyes: fear‚ uncertainty‚ sadness‚ and perhaps even
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Hi‚ I am Jada‚ Chrissy’s younger sister and thank you for coming to my sister’s funeral. I am very grateful to have you all here. Today is a very sad day and I am here to share the loving‚ crazy‚ and funny memories with my sister. My sister was a very sweet‚ loving Mink‚ who just wanted to love everyone. She has been there for her friends‚ family‚ and anyone else who needed her. I remember her giving up her home to a friend and went to find a new one. She’s been there for animals that she didn’t
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"My shoes! These were my favorite pair‚" he groans. Then as if realizing where the puke just came from he looks at me. "Shit‚ this means you have a concussion or something‚ right?" The whole time I am just trying to hide my mortification; I just puked all over my sister’s idol. On what apparently is his favorite pair of shoes. "Um‚ we should go find Karla‚ can you walk?" he asks. I have no idea who Karla is. I’m hoping‚ Karla is the manager who spoke with me earlier and not one of the nurses
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I graduated high school in 2011 but I started my first ever semester of college in the spring of 2017 at Southeast Missouri State University. I was extremely nervous about being in an English class in college. The writing in college is completely different from writing in high school. Writing has never been my forte but I have managed to learn some new things and relearn some old things. My first writing assignment was a literacy narrative. I had no knowledge of this topic. Once the professor explained
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The Fear I Will Overcome I have this fear. It causes my knees to shake. I break out in a cold sweat. My heart starts to beat at 100 miles per hour and I get light headed. I am crying inside but try to act strong around people who think that I am the toughest one there. The thoughts of certain death run through my mind as I imagine my own funeral. My stomach feels strange. My palms are clammy. I am terrified of heights. Of course‚ it is not really a fear of being in a high place. It is the view of
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sexually‚ or any type of background. My parents’ identities are incomprehensible to me‚ because I do not experience life the same way they did‚ and I did not grow up in the same situations in which they did. My cultural identity is inherited from my parents in a way that does not particularly connect with them--that is‚ it is inherited from their sense of self identity and capability to recognize who they are as people. While my my mom may associate herself as one way‚ my dad may associate himself as another
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point in our lives‚ celebrating the engagement of my older cousin. I quickly took upon the role of the event photographer‚ after having been praised for my supposed artistic skill. Then‚ it dawned on me - none of my extended family had seen any of my artworks for at least the past 7 years. The last any of them had seen was likely the deformed stick-figure style I had embraced in my childhood. I had moved on long ago‚ creative writing becoming my preferred past-time‚ leaving behind for them an entirely
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The prewriting method I had chosen for my narrative essay was freewriting. The reason why I chose that method is because of the topic I was given. The topic was my family’s traditional food. So‚ because the topic is about my family‚ I thought it would be easier to free write since it’s based on my own knowledge. This method allowed me to share what came into my mind‚ which included knowledge I knew about my family’s traditional food and its importance in my religion without stressing on research
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chores‚ and do everything else my dad did. We even took daily naps together. We were inseparable. On January 5th‚ 2008‚ my sister and I had a sleep over at grandmas house‚ about 5 miles away from our house. Early the next morning‚ I was woken up by the sound of people talking and crying. I sat up quickly‚ thinking it was all just a dream. It was still dark out‚ but the yard light was the sun shinning bright. I jumped out of bed to see what all the noise was. I found my mother lying on the couch‚ crying
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together in a sauce pan from the 1970’s‚decorated in psychedelic orange and yellow mushrooms “Now don’t mix too fast be‚ be gentle make sure all the shininess is gone then you know it’s done.” This is my best memory of baking with my nana‚ she taught me everything I know today about baking. It’s my favorite thing to do and it’s also hers even now that she is getting older and she can’t stand for a long time and her back bothers her she still finds a way to make us pies for christmas‚ easter‚ and
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