greatest blessing I could have asked for. The time was nearing that I would be walking down the aisle and the perfect vow would be read. On the evening of July 28‚ 2012‚ I would be marrying the man I had always dreamed of marrying‚ and I would be having the fairy tale wedding that every girl hopes for. The day started out early with the entire bridal party which included me‚ Robie (the maid of honor)‚ three (bridesmaids) Amy‚ Lauren‚ and Morgan‚ Cathy and myself‚ because we had so much decorating
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Growing up‚ my grandmother’s house served as a sanctuary of warmth‚ where children’s laughter rang throughout its walls that embraced the feeling of belonging. The apartment’s decoration remained untouched throughout the years‚ except for the occasional additions of the grandchildren’s pictures on the living room wall showcasing the growth from youth to adolescent. However‚ the cardboard box directly beneath my bed stood out conspicuously as it was the most drastic change that occurred in the history
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henna. The lady said okay‚ and she started on my sister‚ and I went after her. I also repeated what my sister told the lady. I went through my day until my mom pointed it out‚ and she was shocked. Finding out about the color of the henna made me shocked‚ and I was shocked to find out about the color of the henna. I got my henna without knowing it was black. I was nine years old then‚ so I was as clueless as a deer caught in the headlights. (SIMILIE) I did not see blisters yet‚ which were a key sign
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took me back to our parents‚ who poured baking soda on it while I wailed in pain‚ and we left the bee’s lifeless body trapped somewhere in the grass. I don’t know why that memory means so much to me. Maybe it was important to Nolan‚ too. While I was about to leave for school the next morning‚ I noticed a slip of paper‚ sloppily folded in half‚ on our living room coffee table. The man from yesterday had left his phone number. “In case we need anything‚” my mother told me‚ recalling her conversation with
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and clap me on my back‚ but I feel a sense of concern‚ I should be happy‚ of course I should‚ I mean I just won my grand finale. I tell myself to get over myself‚ they are never going to find out how they could it was ages ago‚ so I try to forget about it and go and enjoy the celebration. Frank. Frank. My head snaps up‚ I see a coach walking towards me and my stomach gurgles as though it has not eaten for one hundred years. I know what he is going to say as I walk across the room to him. I then follow
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Not once did he cough more than five times. My head panged as my dad continued his persistent wheezes. My brother‚ dumbfounded‚ smiled at me as panic spread across my face. Next thing I knew‚ I was sprinting. I ran as if a monstrous creature was about to launch itself onto my eight year old body. I scurried up the stairs‚ stumbling across the path. Thoughts started flooding into my head. What was going to happen to him? Even as I went to the second floor‚ I could still hear his struggling rasps
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best friend. Because she is my sister‚ I have many jobs: making sure she is happy‚ making sure no one but me tortures her‚ and making sure our fights are not only a challenge‚ but also an art. First of all I really love my sister‚ I would do just about anything for her. Last year on her 12th birthday she had made plans to go to the beach for a weekend. Our parents were going to take her‚ her friend and me. I unfortunately had to work both Friday and Sunday. What made it even worse was that the day
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looked as if Michelangelo had painted them himself. Her brown eyes were big and almond shaped with lashes so long they often tickled her eye lids. She was a rather short girl; about 5’1 with skinny gangly legs and arms‚ weighing no more than 90 pounds. She was meek and dainty‚ preferring to paint nails while talking about boys. I on the other hand acted like a boy. Growing up with the boys in the neighborhood I became a tomboy at heart. I had a short stature and short legs all equally defined
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Peculiar path In one of the coldest days of winter‚ I opened my eyes to this mysterious world in a private hospital located in the most entertaining city‚ Tehran. Since that day‚ my dreams and aspirations have been shaped in an odd manner in a conflict of values. I grew up in Iran in a traditional Persian family that was also influenced by western values. We were living in the middle of an Islamic Republic with a fundamentalist Islamic ideology that conflicted with my family values. “Our Family
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It was sooner‚ rather than later‚ that I had to carry things myself to gain advance my place in the world. After joining marching band my sophomore year‚ it seemed like everyone had a comment about how large my instrument‚ the synthesizer‚ was. While I only played the keyboard atop it‚ it was on a cart‚ that I had to push‚ containing the sound system for my instrument and speakers. “That thing is bigger than you are‚” teachers would remark in
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