Kori Maloy
Comp 1
Ms. Garrett
October 16, 2011
The Day That Changed Everything
I was about to turn eleven years old. Right smack in the middle of winter. Nothing against my parents, but I never really had a good time for my birthday. The weather was usually harsh, and none of my family ever seemed to make it. “Previous engagements” are what they called it. It just wasn’t a good time of the year for me, even though it should have been the best part. For an eleven year old girl, you would think I would have been bouncing off the walls with sheer excitement.
Despite the bad timing of birth and mishaps with family visits, winter was my favorite season of all. Even though it wasn’t the best time of the year for me personally, I loved the cold. I could spend hours laying out in our snow covered yard looking up at the sky. My favorite part was closing my eyes and feeling the small droplets of snow land on my cheeks. Sometimes I would open my mouth and wait for the tiny flurries to land on my tongue. As soon as they hit my tongue, they melted away like cotton candy would on a hot summer day.
With all great things, there must come something to mess it up. My mother always told me to soak up all the good times while you can because you never know when they would be taken from you. Like every other eleven year old girl, I never took my mom’s words seriously until I had experienced them the hard way.
Pursasive Paper on Why College Gap Years Are a Good Thing
Another reason gap years are a good thing is that is enforces responsibility. When a student wants to undergo a gap year there are a lot of steps and processes that need to be made. Some might say that this might just overwhelm the student anyways, but it will not. It helps the students understand the responsibilities to have this goal of their pursued. Gap years, like stated before, are not just ...
I remember everything that happened that day a little too well. I was sitting on the sidewalk looking at how many snowmen were assembled in the yards around me. All I heard was yelling and screaming at first. I didn’t recognize some of the words at first. The garage door opened and my dad came storming out. He looked at me and told me to get in the car with such cold, ferocity that held me in my spot. He yelled it the second time. Being such a little girl, it scared me. Even when they’ve fought before, I have never seen him like this. I heard him mutter something that sounding a little like “worthless,” then he got in the car. I was surprised the windows didn’t shatter by the way he slammed the door. He backed out and sped off. My mom came running out of the house with a tear streaked face. I knew she didn’t want him to go. She never did.
This time was different from the other times they had fought. Daddy didn’t come back to the house that night. He didn’t come back at all. I saw him three weeks after he left. On my birthday, the phone didn’t ring. I got no present. To an eleven year old girl, it stuck with me. I never forgot the day my dad forgot about me.
A week after my birthday is the day I felt my heart actually break. I didn’t think such emotions were possible for a preteen. I came home from school to find my mom pilling boxes on top of each other in the garage. Ever since daddy left, mom has barely spoken one word to me. Deep down I knew it was anything against me. I knew she needed her time to cope. I walked in the garage and looked at the boxes. In big, black sharpie were the words, “Scott’s, Scott’s clothes, Scott’s shoes, Scott’s, Scott’s, Scott’s.” I didn’t know what was happening. I had a weird churning feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had never been so confused.
From what I was told, dad came and got all of his things while I was at my grandparents one weekend. I still hadn’t seen him. I was starting to think that I had done something. But what could I possibly have done? It was the day I came home to my mom cleaning up glass all over her bathroom floor that I knew nothing would be the same again. On that day, hatred began to grow inside of me. Hatred towards life, towards my father. Every night that I had to pick my mom off the couch and carry her to her bed because she had too much to drink, that hatred grew even more. I never forgot what my dad did to me and my mother. I probably never will, but I forgave him a long time ago.
The Essay on Mom And Dad Party Asked Decorations
Creative Story: Father's Handicap For a week in February when I was twelve, my mom and dad started to work hard to set up a Credit Union party. They asked me to help them so, everyday after I got out of school I would help them. Finally Friday came, a day before the big bash and I still had to help set up decorations. We were almost done but, my mom said, 'Mike can you sent the tables and put up a ...
