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Everyone has a favorite day, my favorite day happens to be at the end of the week. Monday to Saturday I work to what seem to be never ending shifts and go to school. Working all day just go to school at night. The week consist of hard work and hours of studying. When Sunday comes along all of that changes. Sundays are my favorite day of the week. Early in the morning I wake up cold, feeling my partners warm body across the bed. I snuggle up to him for warmth. The movement of my body awakens him. He smiles, he has such a wonderful smile that seems to be brighter then the sun to me. Just like any normal teenage boy would do early in the morning he falls back to sleep. I lay snuggled up to him, hearing every breath he takes, feeling every time his chest rises. I lay on the side of him, smiling ear to ear thinking of how lucky I am to be able to have a relationship like this with someone. A half hour goes by my partner awakens, he streches his body out and rolls over and says "five more minutes". I couldn't wait five more minutes! My clock reads 9:48, I am hungry at ths point. All I ca...
"Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden is a poem about a how the author is recalling how his father would wake up early on Sundays, a day which is usually a reserved as a day of rest by many, to fix a fire for his family. The mood of this poem is a bit sad. It portrays a father, who deeply cares for his family but doesn't seem to show it by emotions, words, or touching. It also describes a home that isn't very warm in feelings as well as the title" Those Winter Sundays" The author describes the father as being a hard worker, in the line "…with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday…", but still even on Sundays--the day of rest, the father works at home to make sure the house is warm for his family. The "blueblack cold described in the poem is now warmed by a father's love. This poem describes the author reminiscing what did not seem obvious at the time, the great love of his father, and the author's regretting to thank his father for all that he did.
Morrie Schwartz was a college professor at Brandeis University in Waltham, Massachusetts. He was very other-oriented and had a different attitude about the world which changed when he became aware that he had a disease called amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), or Lou Gehrig's disease. He had less than two years to live. He could no longer enjoy activities such as dancing and going to the YMCA. Instead, Morrie's self-fulfilling prophecy was to teach others about death by communicating his spiritual self. Morrie said that living meant being responsive to others and being able to communicate emotions and feelings.
wake up, that she will awake the wrong time or that it will just not
Personally Saturday nights are my favorite, and I followed the same routine every weekend. So why would this weekend be any different? My room felt cozy as I looked up time to time to see my twinkling Christmas lights I leave up all year. I loved how the sweet scent of vanilla filled up the plain air of my bedroom. Wearing my biggest sweatshirt that dangled at my fingertips, I sat on my bed leaning comfortably on my pillows. Every now and then, the sound of a notification would break the sound of silence. This is how I preferred my Saturday nights to be.
“Tuesday’s with Morrie” is an extraordinary book, which examines the relationship between teacher and student during the time of near death. The novel starts out with Mitch Albom, who is the narrator, remembering his graduation day from Brandeis University. Once he received his diploma, he went up to his favorite professor, Morrie Schwartz, whom he took all of his sociology courses with. Mitch promised to keep in touch with Morrie while handing him a present, a monogrammed briefcase. Both men moved on to separate lives, Mitch to a successful career in journalism, and Morrie to an ongoing teaching career at Brandeis University. Years after graduation, Mitch while watching television, recognized his beloved professor being interviewed on “Nightline” with Ted Koppel.
I stepped out of the chilly November air and into the warmth of my home. The first snowfall of the year had hit early in the morning, and the soft, powdery snow provided entertainment for hours. As I laid my furry mittens and warm hat on the bench to dry, I was immediately greeted with the rich scent of sweet apple pie, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, and the twenty-pound turkey my mother was preparing for our Thanksgiving feast.
It was 3:00AM, I had just been woken up from another two hour catnap, by the screams and cries of my newborn son. He was hungry yet again, and I was beyond exhausted, physically and mentally.
In the early to mid-1800’s, the week end was just that. Week end. Week end was Saturday night, not Sunday. Sunday was considered the first day of the week, not the week end, week-end or weekend. It was not for work or fun, it was for worship, a day of rest. Now it’s week days and weekend. We call the first day of the week Monday, but it is in fact, Sunday.
Two of the greatest days of my life were the days my daughters were born. The first time I held the both of them and gazed into their eyes I felt a sense of relief and hope. The feeling is a warm tingling sensation that engulfed my entire body. The emotions that I felt are beyond what words can explain. It’s amazing to me that in the first few minutes of their lives they completely changed my perception of the world.
My morning always begins around seven o'clock when I am awakened by a sweet, gentle, little voice calling . . . "DADDY, I GO F'RIDE!" This is followed by a dainty smack of tiny lips on my cheek, then another smack of Mom's lips on my lips. A few minutes later, the front door slams shut and I slip back into a slumber. The next thing I hear (a few hours later) is the bloodcurdling, screaming caw of a pterodactyl about to swoop down and pluck me right out of my bed. Actually, it's only my alarm clock. I don't dare hit the snooze button, as I do not even want to hear that again.
my morning starts with a long stretch and yawn followed by a witf of Christmas dinner aroma. I can smell the stuffed and seasoned turkey as well as the cheesy mac and cheese baking in the oven. I can also smell the sugar and cinnamon smothered yams along with the smoked ham hocks mixed together with the black eye peas. the smell of the food is what lures me down stairs and in plain sight I see a steaming turkey fresh out of the oven, is my a bowel of dark green collard green with some fat back mixed in. the list can go on and on because the table stretched about a mile long and it was covered with nothing but food. the main thing that I rush to is to my mothers famous turkey dressing. I can spot it a mile away because she always prepares it in the same shiny aluminium pan and places it in a green, red, and whit...
When the alarm goes off in the morning, my first thought is, fuck, this is way to early. Then I open my eyes; look at my alarm clock and wonder, if I hit the snooze button, would I get up after five more minutes. The answer to that is always no, I need to get up now, or the kids will be late to get to the bus. After fifteen to twenty seconds of debate in my own head, I lift my head off my pillow. I twist to the right and sit up at the same time. Then ...
December 25 is the time of year that everyone celebrates, but does not know the true meaning of this day. Christmas is my favorite holiday because it is the time of year for loving, giving, and remembering who this holiday is for.
Throughout life I have had many memorable events. The memorable times in my life vary from being the worst times in my life and some being the best, either way they have become milestones that will be remembered forever. The best day of my life was definitely the day that I received my drivers’ license. This day is one of the most memorable because of the feelings I had when I received it, the opportunities that were opened up for me and the long lasting benefits that I received from it that still exist today.
Graduation was the most important day in my life. I waited for this amazing day for twelve years to reach my dream and move on to college. For most people, graduation is a memorable day. It is hard for me to forget it even after a hundred years. The day I woke up realizing it was my graduation day, I was smiling all day long knowing that I had made my family proud of me. I remember everything about my graduation day: my party, cake, dress, makeup, hair, cap and gown, and the gifts I got from family and friends.