Never, never, never give up, was coined by Sir Winston Churchill. This quote holds more meaning than could ever be put into words. Everyday we are faced with obstacles that occur in our lives. How we manage these everyday occurrences make us not only who we are, but also who we hope to become. Nineteen hundred eight six was an exceptional year filled with triumph and tragedy. May I never forget lessons learned and innocence lost. Tragic events do not preclude tragic outcomes.
Leaving home was probably the hardest thing I ever had to do at the age of seventeen. For seventeen years I lived in the small ranch style house. I always dreamed of leaving, but never thought the time would come. Finally it was here. The day was bright, beautiful and warm. Fall, in Ohio, can only be described as breathtaking.
Orange, red and yellow leaves fluttered effortlessly to the ground. Long forgotten nests from the spring, now swayed in the gentle breeze. Beneath the tree, leaves lay scattered. Next door, the smell of fresh cut green grass filled the air. A two-door blue Escort sat in the driveway. Inside, an overnight bag and a small, brown box of pots and pans sat in the front seat.
Behind the passenger seat, an old TV was covered in blankets, along with more boxes and luggage. From the car, I slowly made my way back to the garage. My dad stood there watching, waiting. His smooth, shaven face in no way revealed his age. At five foot eleven, my dad wasnt exactly short. However, if I stood on my tiptoes, I could still see his eyes. Bright, green eyes, sad and wet, stared back at me.
Dad, can you think of anything Im forgetting?, I whispered. No., he replied, Do you have any idea where you might be staying the first night?, Shaking my head, No. It will all depend on how tired we are. But Ill call you. Well then, he said, you best get going. I dont want you driving after dark.
And be careful! I will., I said while crying into his chest. Tears blurring my vision, I slipped into my car, quickly driving out of the driveway. Although few words were spoken, volumes were said. Three days, two breakdowns, and twelve hundred thirty-four miles later, we safely arrived in Carrollton, Texas. This was the beginning of the end. Though Texas seemed far away, I still found time to phone home.
I began making Texas my home. Moving with three friends from school, made the transition easier. Joe, an athletic runner, was the oldest; and, C.J., a mamas boy, also came along for the promise of a new beginning. We moved into a three-bedroom townhouse located near a green belt and only seven miles from work. With training completed, a routine developed as we settled into our new jobs. C.J.
and I bought the groceries; while, Joe cleaned the house. Months went by and everything was going smoothly. Meanwhile, I had started to date again. Dating Dave, a computer programmer, was a new experience for me. First, he was older. Second, he acted older. Dave was tall, slender and the first person I ever dated with a moustache.
Deep, green eyes appeared as emeralds under his long, brown eyelashes. Cut short at the neck, his silky, brown hair smelled fresh and clean. Recently moving from Pennsylvania, we began to hit it off immediately. We talked about home, work and anything else that came to mind. He was charming, easy going, and nothing seemed to agitate him. Before I knew it, we were talking about getting a place of our own. As a result, Dave and I signed a lease for our new apartment.
With Labor Day just around the corner, Daves parents decided to come for a visit. Before their arrival I wanted to make sure everything was perfect. I cleaned the house, purchased new plants, and even rented new furniture. The only thing left to do was ask Joe to take care of my dog for the week. Joe was the only one I would trust with Cagney, my cocker spaniel. Cagney, a gift from Joe, was my baby.
Although not a guard dog, she was my sentinel. Black as the night, only the whites of her eyes could be seen and the sound of her collar could be heard. Later that day I called Joe. Joe, I asked, I know its been awhile since weve talked; but I have a favor. Do you think you could watch Cagney for me? Daves parents are coming into town next week? Sure, he answered, for how long? About a week. If thats too long, let me know, I said.
Not a problem at all, why dont you bring her by after work on Friday., he said. Ok, thanks! See ya later!, I replied. Before I knew it, Friday had come. After work, I buzzed home, picked up Cagney, and headed to my old apartment. Traffic was not too bad, so I made it with time to spare. As I parked the car, Joe met me at my car. Hows it going? he asked.
The Essay on Safety Work Glass Beads Glazing
The method statement is for the deglazing, reglazing and fitting of aluminium mullion and beads to existing aluminium frame. All workers to report to named person on site. Sign visitors book and to wear a work pass at all times. This method statement is to cover all aspects of doing this contract in a safe working manor and to eliminate in any Possible Accidents. Once glaziers have signed in to ...
Cool, I said, Im just really nervous. I want everything to be perfect. Guess what? When you move into an apartment now, they are giving away two free champagne glasses and a bottle of champagne. he added. No way! I responded. Yeah, do you want a set? Joe countered.
Sure, where are they? I asked. Over here, follow me. he whispered. I followed Joe across the greenbelt to the empty apartment. The grass was wet and the streetlights had just turned on. People were walking their dogs; still others were running. A few moments later we were at the sliding glass door to an empty apartment.
Joe opened the door and true to his word there were two champagne glasses, a bottle of champagne and a warm Thank You note from the apartment complex. Reaching over the bar, he handed me the glasses and champagne. Enjoy! he said. I placed the bottle of bubbly under one arm and the slender flutes in my left hand. As I turned to leave Joe started to open the sliding glass door for me. However, instead of opening the door, I heard a click. Puzzled, I looked at Joe and said, Whats up? Why did you leave? he asked. Leave where? I questioned.
Me, he said. I replied, I didnt leave you. I dont understand. What do you mean? My voice was starting to quiver and hands were starting to tremble. Wild thoughts were racing through my mind. Oh my God, what was happening? No, no, I thought, Joe is my friend.
We went to school together, moved across country together and worked at the same company. The quiet of the apartment now became deafening. Darkness enveloped the apartment. What do you want? I shrieked. No response. Joe looked cool and composed as he silently approached me.
Frozen, I could not move. Did I know what was going to happen? I am not sure. Before I knew what happened I was lying on my back. The champagne glasses no longer under my arm, but broken beneath me. Kicking violently, I writhed trying to break free from his overpowering clutches. Nothing seemed to be working. A warm, burning sensation emanated from my back. Struggling, I felt his large, muscular hands encircle my neck.
The Review on The Use of Waste Glass as Construction Material
Introduction Waste glass is of great concern in some developed countries, particularly in the urban areas. This is because of the amount of waste material generated from both municipal and construction sources, and the lack of waste disposal areas to receive the material. Countries like Japan, the United States of America, and Australia have taken the initiative to invest in the recycling of glass ...
As the smell of freshly cleaned carpet emerged, I could hear myself desperately gasping for air. Not knowing if this would be my last breath. When I awoke, I was alone. Clutching my neck, I slowly sat up. Violently shaking, I quickly glanced around the room. Still trying to focus, the dimly lit room offered no comfort.
To the right, the champagne bottle had rolled into the kitchen. My back was burning and my shirt was sticking to me. At my feet, lay my shorts and panties. I had no concept of what time it was. Jumping to my feet, I hastily pulled up my clothes and ran to my car. Trembling, I tried to unlock my car. But it was no use it wouldnt open.
Finally, I got my key in the door and hopped in. I am not sure how I made it home, but I did. Running into the house, I was barraged with nothing but questions. Where were you? What took so long? Why didnt you call?, frantically Dave declared. I fell into the corner crying. Sobs wracked my body; I could not catch my breath.
Abruptly, Dave pulled me to my feet. Are you ok?, he gasped. Dont tell anyone about this. Do you hear me? I mean it, dont tell anyone., I declared. Carefully, Dave helped me to the shower. The hot water stung my back. Swirls of steam clouded the mirror as I slowly sank to the bottom of the bathtub.
My head was pounding. It felt as though I had been run over by a freight train. I just wanted this night to end. Little did I know, my night was not going to end there. Nine months later I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. I named her Sarah Janet. Right or wrong, I never told Joe about the baby. Determined to make the best for Sarah, I chose to marry Dave. Knowing the circumstances of her conception, he willingly, without reserve, adopted Sarah.
Looking at my baby girl in no way reminds me of that fateful night. Everyday I thank God for my precious gift. One violent act will not deter me from doing what is best for Sarah. This child did not ask to be brought into this world. Feelings of helplessness, embarrassment and fear no longer control my life. Being a survivor is my focus. Tragic events
The Essay on For Eleanor Boylan Talking With God Retreating Into A Cold Night
The end our road that is life, is death and the second we begin to live, we begin to die. A rendition of death and the loss of a loved one is expressed in two different lights in Dylan Thomas Do not go gentle into that Good Night and Anne Sextons for Eleanor Boylan talking with God. Both express the fear and vulnerability of losing someone you thought should live forever Thomas message is an ...
