Literacy Narrative Essays

Submitted By martyjanety
Words: 742
Pages: 3

In the Johnson household, when you turn seven years of age, you are considered an adult. My parents enforce a tradition in which we receive new boxes of books on our birthdays starting from age seven. Both my sister and my brother had endured this in the years before I. According to the family tree, it was my time to shine. As I laid in my bed and stared at the clock, I felt an eeriness, like looking down a dark alleyway at night. I felt as if my life was about to change forever. They walked into my room at midnight, carrying a cake and a large box covered in light blue wrapping paper. After singing happy birthday and enjoying some cake, I moved on to my favorite part of birthday celebrations; opening up presents! I knew what was in store but I still acted as if I had absolutely no idea. I quickly peeled back the wrap to find a box full of children’s books. I looked up at my parents, both of whom had extremely large smiles wrapping around their faces. “We love you buddy, better get started!” my father said with absolute glee as they made a clean exit out of my bedroom. The door slammed shut as my nonchalant eyes looked down in confusion at the pile of books laying before me. For the first time in my life, I had a moment of realization. One that sticks in my memory to this date. I decided to try and impress my parents, and finish reading every book in the box.
Starting that very night, I opened the first book; Letters of the alphabet. After three vigorous days, I had finally learned the letters of the alphabet and their sounds, the foundation of reading. I had no idea, but this would pave the way of my reading career. I placed the book on my bed stand and grabbed the next book in the sequence; Clifford the Big Red Dog. Every couple days I would enjoy the pleasure of placing the next book into my finished pile. Over the course of a few weeks, both my parents and teachers noticed my increased reading comprehension. I had surpassed the second grade reading level at seven years old. I was at the top of my class, although I was only in kindergarten.
Unfortunately all good things come to an end, my box of books was empty. The next day I went to school and immediately went to the library. I headed straight to the fourth grade section and grabbed the first three books I saw. When I finally got home I wasted no time and darted up the stairs like a cheetah after its prey. I slammed the door shut and hurdled over all the toys on my floor onto my bed, made myself comfortable and