Wait a second!
More handpicked essays just for you.
More handpicked essays just for you.
Cultural influences on family life
How does culture influence family
Culture and their influence on family
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
Recommended: Cultural influences on family life
I stood on the firm sidewalk with a pink suitcase in my hands. Puzzled, I stared at the beautiful, white, house in front of me. Large windows and a big front porch stared at me. I was completely afraid of what was about to happen to my seemingly perfect life. I remember standing there, feeling as if my body was frozen. I couldn’t seem to pick my feet up and join my mom and dad at the front porch. I saw my mom wave at me to come inside. As I start to walk, I remember seeing my two brothers come out of the car, as well as, two other familiar faces. Everything at this point didn’t make much sense to me, but I just did as I was told and walked. I meet my brothers and two cousins at the door. My mom is smiling from ear-to-ear. All I could think
When I was younger I would walk to school every day and I would walk pass this brick house that stood on the corner by its self with three green steps leading to a white door. For some reason that house always looked familiar to me and I always had a bad feeling about this house but I have never known why, until one day my dad picked me up from school and we walked passed that same house and I asked my dad why does that house look so familiar? He told me that I was born and raised in that house until I was ten years old. He told me that two guys broke into that house and tried to rob our house while everyone was sleep. My dad was just getting off of work when he caught one of the robbers and the other jumped out of the window. My dad told me
Growing up as an only child I made out pretty well. You almost can’t help but be spoiled by your parents in some way. And I must admit that I enjoyed it; my own room, T.V., computer, stereo, all the material possessions that I had. But there was one event in my life that would change the way that I looked at these things and realized that you can’t take these things for granted and that’s not what life is about.
A calm crisp breeze circled my body as I sat emerged in my thoughts, hopes, and memories. The rough bark on which I sat reminded me of the rough road many people have traveled, only to end with something no one in human form can contemplate.
It was the late August around 2005. I remembered that there were two people came into the house with luggage. I did not have clear images of them, but I believed that it was something that deepened in my bone that told me they were my parents. I thought I could live happily with them but one day, my father took me to a man’s house. The man offered me candies while talking to my father. Although I was a child, I sensed something terrible and I was right. My father left me with the man’s family. I realized that my father was attempting to sell me. The man closed the door and tried to prevent me from escaping. I screamed and cried out loud. “Father, Mother, Grandma, where are you guys? Don’t leave me alone! I do not know them.” I was desperate. I was amazed by how much power I used to push the man and his
On the Monday October 27th, 2014, for the first time in 4 years I did not wake up at 5:30 in the morning, I was not putting on a green skivvy shirt and shorts. There was no formation, no one that was higher command I had to report to, telling me where I had to go, what time I had to eat breakfast, what was I doing this day or what our platoon plans were for the day. There were no PT (physical training) I had to do this morning. Instead, I woke up grab a regular t-shirt, khaki shorts, and my two sea bags full of clothing and gear that I collected during my time in the Marine Corps. I threw everything in my vehicle and drove from Camp Pendleton, California to Quincy, Illinois. Within two weeks I was accepted to Southern Illinois University Carbondale. For three days, I stayed at the
...est thing that ever happened to me. Whenever I tried to leave, something just brought me back inside through a different door. It was no tricks, my feet and everything else were the absolute same. I thought I was dreaming, but that is when Cameron told me something about our house I never knew. Whoever dies inside of that house, never gets to leave. It becomes your home forever, no matter if other humans buy or live there as well. Then a rush of panic came through my body. I wanted to ask so many questions. My parents lied to me, Cameron hadn't died last night. He had died much earlier, or else how would he have known about the house's secret? My eye caught a glimpse of a newspaper that was on the old, worn out living room table. The headline was "Teenager Cameron Michaels dead after killing family in his house." The same house that I was living in with my parents.
And with that I gathered my all my stuff including my jacket and suitcase and left the Long Island Cafe. I wandered out of the coffee shop feeling my legs go numb. I even said to myself. How could this happen? Like I knew she needed help but I still never did anything. It was 5:43 as I could remember. The day when I stepped out of my box and help my mom. I crossed the street from Rosedale to McCarthy going right to my apartment. God, as I could still feel the wind blowing my long hair from side to side as I firmly tried to stop it. Without ...
Previously, When I got home I saw my brothers and sisters running and screaming, I thought they were just excited to see me. When I went inside I saw all our stuff packed in cardboard boxes.
“It was a cold night and I was on my way to the airport, I felt like everything went fast and the look they had my family members was something I never saw before, at that moment I wished I could read their mind, but I know I couldn’t so that made me feel impotent of not knowing how they felt or what they were thinking about”. When I reached the airport it was time to say goodbye to my family, it was only me, my brother and my mom who was leaving. Saying goodbye to my family was hard, I saw tears on my grandmother’s face like if she never would see me again, my aunt had a smiling face I felt like she was hiding something in the inside, she said it was going to be a new way to success in life, and my uncle was just silent the whole time. It
I locked my younger siblings in the bathroom upstairs and I start making my way down the steps being careful where I place my foot, because the steps were known to creak. I clung onto the railing until my knuckles were white and I peered around the corner to see Jonathan holding my Father back as he was lunging for my Mother.
There are many attractions to Cal State Northridge and this online SLP master’s program. First, my husband and I are “Made in the CSU.” My husband and I held student executive officer positions at Cal State Long Beach and Cal State Fullerton, respectively. Becoming a Matador and expanding my graduate education to CSUN is a dream come true. Second, is my commitment to the California public education system, which has been fostered by numerous individuals whom I have met through my involvement in campus service at CSUF, as an advocate for public higher education on the California State Student Association, in my classes, and through my sorority. Third, is that I am a mother of two beautiful babies (and trying to adopt a third). Next year, my
I can distinctively remember stating to myself “what’s going on” I have not a clue about anything. My years flew by very fast with no substance. It was hard for me to learn in school because I just didn’t understand why. At ten years old my mother made a way for us to visit her twice a year. It was very refreshing to see my mother and to experience a different environment. I enjoyed my visiting experience while I traveled twice a year. My mother made it rule that each sibling had to finish high school first in Jamaica before coming to live in the united states to start college. I didn’t finish high school in Jamaica because my brother past away one year after migrating to the U.S.A. After the death of my brother life felt surreal. I still don’t believe that he is gone. As my mother lived in another country, I imagine him being somewhere else. My sister begged for me to be with the family after this tragic event. So, I moved here at the age of sixteen a year before I graduated high
As a child, I never even fathomed getting a real, paycheck granting job. The mere thought that I would have to do this someday overwhelmed me. At times I wondered if I could just stick with my $15.00 weekly allowance for mowing the lawn and washing the dishes for the rest of my life. I always figured that I would just stay young forever and never evolve into such a money hungry teenager.
I look around in awe to find in my own surprise, hundreds of footprints whaling away on the white, open beach. As I stand there, wonderstruck, I imagine who or what the prints belong to. I want to go and examine the miraculous prints, but something was holding me back. My conscious was telling me something, I couldn’t quite understand or evaluate what it was trying to tell me, but I knew it was the inimical of satisfying.
If I woke up with a ability I would be excited, proud and happy. Imagine how you will be if you had that happen to you! The ability I will have is flying. I had always wanted this ability so that I can fly around my neighborhood. Also that I can go to places that are long to walk to and just fly over there quick and not exhausted.