More handpicked essays just for you.
lessons learned from writing a personal narrative
lessons learned from writing a personal narrative
writing a story about my self personal narrative
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
Recommended: lessons learned from writing a personal narrative
I was about ten years old and in the fifth grade. My mother had just picked me up from school that day and had bought me some delicious popcorn. I could not wait to get home to pop my popcorn, and we lived all the way in Rose Hill, Alabama. I was getting pretty restless by the time we got home.
So we got home and I went directly to the big, black microwave. I put it in, and began pressing the buttons. It was popping and popping, and the buttery smell was getting to me. My mother said that she had to go to the bathroom for a second and that I was not to take out the popcorn until she got back.
Time drug slowly by as I was waiting and waiting, growing more and more impatient. The anticipation was more than I could stand, I disobeyed and got the popcorn out anyway. I opened the popcorn very slowly. The steam came gushing out and burnt the tips of my fingers, face, and neck. I quickly dropped the popcorn. It hit the floor and went everywhere. I quickly began to eat the popcorn and decided I needed to put it all in a bowl.
I searched for a bowl, and the best I could find was on the very top shelf of the cabinet. I opened the bottom cabinet door and slowly climbed my way up the cabinet and onto the counter top. I reached the bowls and carefully lifted the two bowls that were on top of my bowl. I took my bowl down and arranged everything back in perfect order. I began thinking about the best way to get down. The best way down was the way I came up.
I carefully pulled the bottom cabinet door closed, and with my bowl in my hand, I jumped. I did not make it to the floor. My feet were oddly dangling and did not touch the floor. I had a sharp pain in the left side of my butt. The cabinet handle had gotten pushed through the bottom of my butt cheek. I called for my mother’s help and she told me to hold on for a second. She was still in the bathroom and thought a bee stung me. I put my hands on top of the counter and lifted and away from the cabinet. I ran as fast as I could towards the bathroom with a trail of bright red blood behind me.