It was a windy day in the fall, a Saturday to be exact, and the trees were bare and the ground was cold. There was a midnight frost that had melted away as the sunshine left the grass with the familiar dewey residue that would make the lower half of one’s canvas-dyed converse damp and slightly moist, but not enough to bother the sock. I trudged through this natural slop and wound my key lanyard nervously around my fingers, contemplating the idea of just throwing my home key into the thin strip of woods between my house and the next, knowing it would be hard to find them once I did. When I was about three meters from my door, I stopped. I did not want to talk to my family, nor did I want to step foot inside that house. I had already checked the …show more content…
He fumbled over his words, awkwardly backing out of the room, unsure of how to approach his own daughter and not having much experience in doing so anyway. Of course, in a family of 4, news travels faster that light and within two minutes, my mother was at my door and did not even bother to knock. She never does. “Your father says you are crying. What is wrong?” When I didn’t respond, she shifted her weight to her right foot and placed her hands on her hip. “Fine. Don 't tell me. But you are going downstairs to have lunch. I will not let you hide up here in your room.” She pivoted on the balls of her feet and left the room swiftly, but stopped a few feet from my door to make sure I was following her. I numbly found my way off my bed, not having much other choice. My mother has this commanding tone to her voice that is just a part of her natural inflection, but that scares me to a point of obedience more often than not. I followed her downstairs, ate, and when I was finished I watched as my mother and father both walked into my father’s home office, my mother turning around to give me a pointed look that said “Get in here,
I. Intro. - Imagine you are sitting home one night with nothing to do. Your parents have gone away for the weekend and there is absolutely no one around. So you sit around that night watching TV for awhile but find nothing on worth watching. You go on upstairs to your room and get ready for bed. Turn off the lights, lay down, and close your eyes. All of a sudden you here a crash of glass in your kitchen. You rush to your feet and put your ear to the door listening to what’s going on downstairs. You begin to hear the voice of two men as they start going through the living room, making their way to the stairs, right outside your room. What do you do? You aren’t going to confront them since its just you—remember you thought you heard two of them right? Well you are really stuck in your room and all you can do is sit there hoping that they leave soon and don’t harm you. Now if it were at my house things would be a little bit different. For starters I would get out my shotgun from my closet and begin to see what is gin on down stairs.
Parental pressure is often part of a child’s life. The pressure depends on gender, society, and also culture. The really short story “Girl” by Jamaica Kinvaid is a conversation between a mother and daughter. The mother talk most of the time; she gave a long series of warnings and advice to the daughter, who responds only twice. These advises are mostly about how to take care of her dad, or future husband, and also household chores, cooking, manners, social conduct. The voice of the mother seemed commanding and “bitchy” but the mother seems to expect a great deal of her daughter, and she did say what she had to say to let the girl know it.
Growing up, Alice’s parents did not show much affection to each other or to their children. When Alice was a young girl, she would play “house” with Barbie and Ken where they were married and would divorce because Ken “does not touch.” Alice would beg her father to kiss her mother goodbye when he was leaving for his long trips to Spain, making a scene from the backseat of the car. Alice mentions that once on a playdate with one of her neighborhood friends, the girl told her how her mother thought Alice’s family was weird. It was at this moment that Alice recognized her family was different from others, that her parents did not kiss each other or play games with their children like other parents did. Instead, Alice’s family always locked themselves away. Her mother would stay locked away in her room, where she would throw up blood from being an alcoholic. Her father would lock himself away in his study, when he was home. Her sister would lock herself away in her room. Alice craved affection and attention so badly that she would purposely let the basset hounds run around with maxi pads so that the entire family would be chasing them around the house. Eventually, however, the dogs were caught and everyone would retreat back into their own rooms (Sebold, 2017). Another time Alice craved attention was when she and her father were visiting colleges. They stayed at a hotel overnight and Alice placed ice cubes under the covers by her father’s feet. She could not contain her laughter when he got into bed and this led to an ice-war inside their hotel room. Alice informs the reader that she had never seen her father so care-free before (Sebold, 2017). Another time Alice mentions her desire for affection from her mother is when she would lay on the couch next to her mother and slowly inch her way into her mother’s lap. She would complain of having a headache just so that her mother would rub her head, until a
One night a young girl, Lily Foster, is left alone for the night, in her Hotel room , while her parents drove out to town for a party. This was fine with Lily, especially since she had her faithful dog, Scout, protecting her throughout the night. She made herself something to eat, and sat down at the kitchen table. Turning on the radio to her favorite station, she was surprised to hear a news bulletin declaring that an avenged murderer was on the loose. It advised that people secure all windows and doors as a safety precaution. With her dog by her side, the young girl locked the front and back doors. She went from window to window, and locked each of them one at a time. She reassured herself that she would be fine with her trusty dog, and that her
At quarter till midnight, I heard Dad enter the house through the front door, which was unusual. A kitchen chair scraped back and footsteps could be heard. Mom must’ve stood up. “Never bring another child of mine into that killing place. I won’t allow my children to work in that mine.
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.
“Ring, click.” You heard that right, that was the sound of sadness. That alarm means only one thing it is Monday! The first day of the week which means I have five days of school sigh, but wait what is that outside? I can barely see, but I can tell it’s white outside, wait what is that? It's snowing! “We are going to have a snow day!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I ran through my house!
It’s 3:20 am. on a Friday morning, and pitch black out. The only things visible are the tree branches and pavement shining from yellow streetlights that carve out a path from the parking lot to the back door of my building. Living on campus at Towson I should’ve owned mace, but I clutched my car key instead, pointed outward ready to stab the eye of anyone deciding to come out of the dark after me. The brisk walk up the hill seems to take half an hour. Finally under the bright lights of the overhang I swipe my card quickly to get inside. The door bolt locks behind me with a loud click. I’m safe.
I remember the first day of my English class like it was yesterday. Term one just started and the class is waiting for the teacher to come. I remember looking down and seeing someone with sandals and was kind of confused, but brushed it off. I felt like every single teacher was going to leave, just like the first year at Jackson Preparatory and Early College. I found myself in a place where I didn’t know if I could trust teachers, because all my life I felt no need to, and didn’t find any reason to talk to them whenever I needed advice or if I had a problem. Every time I found that I liked a teacher, a couple weeks later, they just left without notice. At Jackson Preparatory and Early College, the very first year, we had a staff issue. We slowly
As I walked in to their bedroom, I found my mother sitting on the bed, weeping quietly, while my father lay on the bed in a near unconscious state. This sight shocked me, I had seen my father sick before, but by the reaction of my mother and the deathly look on my father’s face I knew that something was seriously wrong.
There is only one place in this world I would go to find the meaning of life, my childhood home. In my memories, that house has always been my sanctuary. Safety brings a touch of tranquility, free of twisted negativity that would clear the way of finding the meaning of my life. My house opens a door to a whirlwind of deep love for everything it stands for and distaste for the way it looks. When you 're living in an unseemly house, surrounded by people who thinks its an eyesore, was when I learned the superficiality of the people around me. That house became my heaven as well as, my hell. I was caught between my appreciation for my own home and the approval of others, but as I grew up I found out what I should treasure more is the simple joys of life.
The light from the sun reflects off the pure white wall, illuminating the room. The dust floats, undisturbed by the empty house. This is what I see as I launch myself out the door, into the hot summer air, into the sounds of playing children.
One beautiful day that summer, I was playing outside with my friends when my mom called for me to come home. I did not want to abandon my guard post at the neighbor's tree house so I decided to disregard her order. I figured that my parents would understand my delima and wouldn't mind if I stayed out for another two or three hours. Unfortunately, they had neglected to inform me that my grandparents had driven in from North Carolina, and we were supposed to go out for a nice dinner. When I finally returned, my father was furious. I had kept them from going to dinner, and he was simply not happy with me. "Go up to your room and don't even think about coming downstairs until I talk to you."
A typical Sunday morning at my house is a little less sleep and a lot more work. It 's early when my eyes open. The first thing she tells me is, “Mija, I want you to go to the kitchen as soon as you get your clothes on.” Not even a “Good Morning.” The market’s over at the Redlands and there 's a lot of traffic at that time. It usually takes me a bit to get up. There 's a whole routine to it; she 'd yell at me so I 'm up, make me take a shower, and have me go feed and take out the dogs. I don 't even know why we have five, our house barely fits two. Nonetheless, I love them all.