Dawn and I pulled into the parking lot with thirty minutes to spare. The building loomed in front of us like a gray giant. The cold steel, glass, and concrete reflected the sunlight like some foreboding prism. My stomach developed “butterflies” at the very thought of entering. Dawn reached over and squeezed my hand, and for an instant, I saw the familiar glimmer in her eyes that I have relied on, over the years, to reassure me that all is right with the world. It had been awhile since I had seen that glimmer and it made my heart ache knowing that there was nothing I could do to bring it back into her daily existence. Dawn is an eternal optimist and I have often told her that I wished the world really was the “Disney-like” paradise that she believes it is. She always responds with a smile and reminds me that things can always get worse, and that there is more good than bad in the world. I always replied the same way by mumbling some sort of agreement with the first part of her statement and a healthy dose of skepticism to the latter part. We made our way across the parking lot to the entrance of the menacing structure, and we cast one last glance at each other before pushing the door open. The lobby was as impersonal and industrial looking as the exterior. There were chrome chairs gleaming in the sunlight and the floors and walls were almost blinding under the cold fluorescent lights that run the lengths of the hallways. The corridors extended in all directions, like the tentacles of some great beast and all of them created their own sense of dread for the unlucky person walking down them. Dawn pulled me towards an open elevator door. As the door closed, the feelings of doom increased and at that moment I felt as if I knew what it must be like for a prisoner walking down death row to meet his fate, the realization that life as you know it is over. The elevator lurched upward and my stomach dropped, like an ominous omen of what’s ahead. The doors opened and Dawn led me down another equally, dread inducing, corridor to a large wooden door. We entered the room and this lobby was only slightly more personal than the main lobby was. This lobby did have a few outdated magazines which suggested that at least one other human being had been in this room before. I found myself wondering how a building that was less than five years old could have magazines in the lobby that were eight years old and this did not help instill confidence about what was to come. We walked up to the large desk in the center of the lobby and spoke with the woman seated there. She escorted us down yet another corridor and into a small room. In a very “professional” tone, she informed that someone would be with us shortly and we should have a seat, she then turned abruptly and left us, sitting alone in the room. Dawn began chatting nervously about the weather, the kids, etc. in an attempt to keep my mind off of things and to help me stay calm. I also knew this was a type of “defense mechanism” she uses to hide how scared she really is. She does this whenever she gets nervous or frightened so I just pretend to be interested and smile a lot. I was constantly squeezing her hand, not knowing if it was to reassure me or reassure her. Dawn and I have known each other since we were toddlers and it is almost like we know what each other is thinking. She knew how uncomfortable I am with “feelings” and such, so she kept the conversation light, covering such topics as what we were having for dinner, how much homework the kids had, and how much longer it would be until spring. I was extremely grateful for these “light” topics because I had no idea what to say if we talked about why we were in this room. I feared that the very mention of “it” would be more I could bear. No matter what the outcome of this visit was, I knew our lives would never be the same again. After what felt like an eternity to me, it was actually ten
Michelle E. Diaz
ENC 1101 - 189381
November 3, 2014
Narrative Essay Revision
Resentment: Self-Inflicted and Self-Cured
Overcoming an obstacle doesn't mean that certain events have to stop occurring so that it's classified as overcome. I was once told, “Life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you respond to it.” I believe that to be 100% correct. I was raised in a culture where the man of the family, the father, the husband, holds the utmost authority and responsibility…
Abukhalaf /Picture p 1
Freshman Writing, Block 4
By Summer Abukhalaf
“Meet with us in science after school, okay?” Maggie says.
“Okay, let me call my mom and tell her about it,” I say.
I know my mom will never let me walk with my friends to go to someones house.
I’m so excited to go trick or treating with my friends. This year is supposed to be
absolutely perfect. Eighth grade is very important. It’s your last year in middle school…
The transition of a high school student to a college undergraduate is a life-changing experience that most youths go through. The course that led to this transformative event began on the first day I entered high school. Attending a technical school for four years was the best decision I could have made. It prepared me for the real world while simultaneously providing me with the skills needed for college. My first year in high school was like moving into a new city and trying to…
ABOUT THE JAPANESE IN HAWAII
According to the first 153 Japanese immigrants, the Japanese in Hawaii had to fight for the rights of Japanese for many years when they had arrived on February 8, 1885 as contact laborers. After that, they started increasing their community by setting up the first Japanese schools in the United States. By 1920, most of Japanese children in Hawaii could speak Japanese language as their first language. Because I had a chance to research about Japanese American in…
The road to the state tournament was one that I will never forget. The Perry Lady Maroons softball team of 2013 made Perry, Oklahoma history by going to the state tournament for the first time. My team and I basically lived at our softball complex from August to October. Although the outcome of state wasn’t what I expected, the blood, sweat, and tears were worth every second I got to play at the USA Hall of Fame Stadium.
The beginning of my junior year of softball season I knew we had hit the jackpot…
10 September 2013
I walked out of the vets office, tears rolling down my face as the veterinarians just stood with a look of sadness and silence in the air. They acted as if they had never seen a pet owner upset before. I walked up to my car and just stood by it as my mom came out a little later. Her eyes were as read as mine. She came up to me and hugged me. She asked me, “You were so brave…
In 10th grade, I had missed my first day of school because I was really sick. The next day it
come, while hearing the announcement of homeroom, we were told welcome back to all track
c students and welcome to incoming ninth graders. They mention that a add on year has us
waiting, and that swimming, football, and cross country try outs are the following day, and to
make sure to bring an emergency card.
Throughout my day various of friends had mentioned joining football because it can get you…
Essay #1: The Narrative
The waves crashed down at a velocity only measurable by Mother Nature plunged me down into the abyss of the ocean floor. Her volume and mass of water tossed me around like a pin ball bouncing off rubber paddles. I helplessly squirmed around trying to find my sense of direction. Thoughts of accepting a trophy, coated with a glazy gold plastic dip, on a podium at the Olympics ran through my head as I demonstrated different variations of underwater cartwheels: one handed, two…
after night, I would take stacks of storybooks to her, and while I sat in her lap, she would read them to me. As a result, I learned to read at the age of five. I am a visual text such as comics and graphic novel.
4. In school I use to writing for an essay and at work like a nursing field I use writing report. Also I use email, text and chart.
5. I am a dissertation. Because I don’t really like discussion with classmates I think I can’t talk enough or share ideas with others. I like to my own when I…
Short Narrative Essay
Having a child young opens your eyes to a whole new world. You realize that you have to grow up and put this perfect precious being before yourself, you find a new kind of love for the child you have had the privilege of bringing into this world.
I was eighteen when I found out I was pregnant, had just broken up with my boyfriend (the father of the child), was living with my parents and had no job. I was in no way ready…