Personal Narrative: Moving Away From Home

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Growing up in a suburban, middle-class neighborhood I lived a relatively peaceful day-to-day life during my youth. I kept my window open at night and played out front with chalk in the driveway without parental supervision. No one could complain about that, certainly not me considering this was my lifestyle from birth to high school. Although I lived in such a manner does not mean I am naive to how cruel and distorted the rest of the world can be.

In fact, in fifth grade my parents began taking me to a homeless shelter in affiliation with our church to give back and assist those in need who were not able to provide for themselves or their families. Every second Thursday of the month, we drove to the Austin Street Shelter in South Dallas. Once there, we helped unload food into the gated loading dock. Instantly upon entering, my jaw dropped at the vast number of people scattered upon the stadium sized warehouse. Separated by a small wall, the men were kept separate from the women and children in order to
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The extraneous food would be sent to help some who were unable to travel to the shelter. As we left and drove back to our home, thoughts permeated through my mind. I became incredibly grateful for the little things I had taken for granted. Simple things like being able to speak to my parents at night and being able to shower at any time I choose, now seemed like a blessing.

From my experiences at the Austin Street Homeless Shelter, I have become enlightened on the poverty our city has and its impact on the local economy. I now feel appreciative for my possessions I used to think of as expendable. I find myself being cautious about how I treat my belongings and others around me. But I am mostly glad for the rearing I have received from my parents and the infrastructure provided to me throughout my life. I have a new outlook on the true essence of freedom and