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Short story analysis essay
Mother and son relationship Essay
Mother and son relationship Essay
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Tears streamed down my sunken cheeks as I thought about what led up to this moment in my life. If only i'd listen to Mother, I frowned. She must be so worried about, I thought feeling guilt and shame wash over me. It was my fault I was in this predicament. I should've listened to mother, but now it was to late to feel sorry for my actions. Now I sat trapped in this lavish environment that should feel like paradise, but only causes me to cry and sigh more. I just want my life back, my mind silently whispered, going back to the day it all started. "Dear mother," I spoke, "I shall be very lonely while you are away. May I not run down to the shore, and ask some of the sea nymphs to come up out of the waves and play with me?" I added hopefully. Knowimg Mother and her worrisome personality she'd might say no. Mother was a very busy woman. Tending the fields and caring for the wheat, and the Indian corn, and the rye and barley crops. No matter how busy she was she always made sure I was stearing of danger. Paranoid is what I would call her, but I guess mother's know best. …show more content…
"The sea nymphs are good creatures, and will never lead you into any harm. But you must take care not to stray away from them, nor go wandering about the fields by yourself. Young girls, without their mothers to take care of them, are very apt to get into
She picked a seat in the way back, away from all the people. She silently stared out the window making a quiet list inside her head of all the things she had forgotten and all the people she remembered. Tears silently slid down her face as she remembered her aunt crying and cousins afraid of the dark in their house. She couldn’t do it anymore. It was the best for everyone she thought. Deep down though she knew how hard it would be for everyone to find out she was leaving. From her family’s tears, to the lady in the grocery store who was always so kind and remembered her name. She also knew how
In the short story “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?”, a Greek meaning of the character Connie has been presented in two ways, by her being a nymph and her breathing. Some researchers believe Connie to be a nymph from Greek mythology because the definition of a nymph follows suit with the character Connie. “In Greek mythology, nymphs were inferior divinities frequently
Accordingly, although Ruth shelters her children from her painful past, she reconciles her experiences and becomes a wiser and stronger mother to raise her accomplished children. Ruth’s memories reveal a mother’s triumph in providing an optimistic outlook for her kids. Similarly, when people reflect on their past, especially via their defeat and agony, they can gain wisdom by understanding how problems developed and how people approached them. These reflections also help individuals understand who they are today and where they are going tomorrow. Lessons from the old days can empower them to adjust their present behaviors and to reach their goals in a brighter prospect.
Sharon Olds’s poem, “I Go Back to May 1937,” is an emotional piece that takes the reader back to the early days as the speaker’s existence was first thought about. The speaker is a female who describes the scene when her parents first met; she does this to show her wrestling thoughts as she wishes she could prevent this first encounter. She speaks about this topic because of the horrendous future of regret and sorrow that her family would experience, and also to contemplate her own existence if her parents had never met in May of 1937. Olds uses forms of contrasting figurative language, an ironic plot, and a regretful tone to convey the conflict between the speaker and her parents while she fully comes to understanding of past actions, and how these serve as a way for her to release her feelings on the emotional subject.
I walked into the room on New Year’s Day and felt a sudden twinge of fear. My eyes already hurt from the tears I had shed and those tears would not stop even then the last viewing before we had to leave. She lay quietly on the bed with her face as void of emotion as a sheet of paper without the writing. Slowly, I approached the cold lifeless form that was once my mother and gave her a goodbye kiss.
I unwilllingly walked through the entrance of regret and guilt. With teary eyes from what happened the night before, I didn’t know what I could say. All I thought was ‘It was an accident’ but that didn’t matter anymore.
As I walked out of the courthouse and down the ramp, I looked at my mom in disappointment and embarrassment. Never wanting to return to that dreadful place, I slowly drug my feet back to the car. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and I didn't want anyone else to know what I had done. Gaining my composure, I finally got into the car. I didn't even want to hear what my mom had to say. My face was beat red and I was trying to hide my face in the palms of my hands because I knew what was about to come; she was going to start asking me questions, all of the questions I had been asking myself. Sure enough, after a short period of being in the car, the questions began.
As I walked out of Cazares Driving school, I looked at my mom in disappointment and embarrassment. I never wanted to return to that awful place. All I wanted to do was curl up in a little ball and I didn't want anyone else to know what I had done. I didn't even want to hear what my mom had to say. As I entered the car I could feel my face burning like hell surely enough it was red like an apple. I was trying to hide my face in the palms of my hands as I imagined all the remarks my mom and brothers had to make. "Darling how could we have miscalculated six months?"
I remember the day well. There was a disturbance of some sort in the house of which I had taken part. I am not sure whether I was the malefactor or was the beneficiary, probably a quarrel with my brothers, but I do remember what happened thereafter. After my rebuke, I walked through the back door and proceeded to the garage. In those days, and even now, the garage was not meant for cars but for storage, so there were boxes upon boxes of stored junk. Upon entering, I moved a few boxes away, found a familiar hole where my brothers and I used to go and hide, bellied myself on the dusty flour, and crawled about three and one half feet under stored chairs and one desk to my destination—a hidden spot in the far corner of garage. None would find me there! Immediately I began to cry. “No one loves me!” and “Everybody hates me!” were the phrases that I would say. Tears flowing, I would condemn the world for its hatred and console myself with the words I knew too well, “It’s okay. You can survive though no one understands you.” How hopeless words can console is a mystery—but truth switches places with lies when you’re deceived.
In today’s society there is a high fear of crime by society. Society actions show that there is anxiety and fear about crime. Therefore, anxiety and fear about crime has placid our cities and communities. Society express fear of being victimized by crimes, criminal activities, and behaviors. Therefore, according to, (Crime, 1999) states that “ the level of fear that a person holds depends on many factors, including but, not limited to: “ gender, age, any past experiences with crime that a person may have, where one lives, and one’s ethnicity.” All of those factors have a huge impact on one’s fear level.
Like so many innocent, selfless girls, untouched by the world, I forgave him. The pain dispersing through my body reminded me that I was strong and all I needed to do was heal. I would cry without tears at first, the sadness inside me so intense, that the hollowness in my heart would weigh me down. My heart’s deep hollowness was so immense, that the loudest shrie...
There once was a girl who lived a happy life until the age of thirteen. Everything changed that day because that 's when her mother started emotionally, mentally, and verbally abusing her. The girl wanted nothing more than to be loved by her mother but that was not the case. Her mother thought that she was nothing than a worthless piece of garbage on the street. Every day the girl 's mom had something negative to say to the girl whether it was that she was stupid, worthless, or even someone who nobody wanted around. Every day the girl wished to be accepted by her mother, but she knew deep down that would never happen. The girl battled anxiety and depression disorder caused by her mother 's years of torture and abusive ways. The girl was on
Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.
When I left my room, my mother knew that I had gone through a rough time, and I did not want to talk to her about it. Even though there was only a month left in my school year, I promised myself that I would be completely truthful to my friends, my family, my heritage, and myself. I expected all my friends to leave me, but I was fully prepared for this. However, none of this ever happened. My friends didn’t leave me, I wasn’t alone at the lunch table, I wasn’t even seem differently by those around me. I had failed my family by doing this, and I wished I had stopped acting like someone I wasn’t sooner. This is one of the only mistakes I have made which I consider a failure because it had taken me close to a year to fix, and this is why I consider it my most successful failure.
Some memories are best forgotten, but it takes courage to go through them. Often, I wish to forget the day when I almost lost my parents in a tragic car accident. As my world came crumbling down, I prayed and hoped that the nightmare would soon end. I endlessly fought the sense of helplessness, isolation and fear of the uncertainty. I was 19 and clueless. Nevertheless, I sailed through these dreadful days and welcomed my parents home after six long months. In the months that followed my parent’s return, I juggled between taking care of my parents, graduating college and adjusting to my new job. Almost 10 years later, this dark phase still has a phenomenal impact on me. Perhaps, because this specific experience transformed me into a grateful,