Personal Narrative My Favorite Chair - 1045 Words

I was sitting on my favorite chair going through photos of Max, my eldest son, while my husband was putting up photos on the mantel above our fireplace. Quynh, my youngest daughter of three, asked me about the photo with a young woman in a black and white photo wearing a pair of heels. â€Å"Mom who is this?† I took a look, â€Å"She is your grandmother†. She looked down at the photo again, and then she ran to one of the boxes and gave me a pair of blue high heels, â€Å"Are these the shoes she’s wearing?† I answered, â€Å"Yes. Yes they are.† It was about time she knew so I sat down by the fireplace with her. â€Å"Let me tell you a story about your grandmother,† She cuddled up with me and brought our kitten, Mun, with us. I made sure she was comfortable and†¦show more content†¦She would bring in candles to read late at night at her grandmother’s house when she knew that it was worth a whipping. Somehow all of that didn†™t matter because she didn’t look brand new like she did back at home. When she arrived her clothes were torn and her hair had fallen out of her tight bun into a puffy and spiky cloud. After that she stayed in bed for weeks, sick to her stomach. We couldn’t afford medicine so we sold her blue high heels for and equivalence of three USD. We sold them to a rich young man by the name of Hong who felt sympathy for our family. Went my mother was lying in bed we heard a knock on the door. It was Mr. Hong and he was holding my mother’s blue heels. He apologized to us and handed me the shoes and left without me having the chance to say thank you. I brought them to her but she went to sleep without saying goodnight like she always does. The next day I woke up early to see her fixing her hair and walked out of the door swiftly without saying goodbye. I remember the determined look on her face but it was mixed but revenge and anger. She took the heels with her. She came back night after night with no such luck and looked skinnier and skinnier as each day passed. We ate the food from the night before because she didn’t touch a single grain of rice. Was she losing weight for a job? Every day she became more and more tired until she couldn’t take it anymore and passed away on a winter morning. Sooner or later my fatherShow MoreRelatedA Short Story1483 Words   |  6 Pagesschool work. My body sagged with fatigue, arms unable to rise above my waist, and my head drooped in eagerness to meet my bed. Of course I was eager in turn to meet my head’s throbbing expectations, leaping into bed to a night long and full of eventful dreams. Then I heard those fatal words, courtesy of my darling mother ,† Did you have good day? Did you get everything done that you needed to?† â€Å"Mrghm†¦ In-a-bit†¦Ã¢â‚¬ , came my mumbled, muffled, reply. As much as I anticipated giving my body permissionRead MoreReactive Attachment Disorder ( Ptsd )1717 Words   |  7 PagesTreatment a. 1. Personal Narrative a. My name is Heather and I am 10 years old. My mom says that I was diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder when I was 4 years old, which was before my new mom adopted me. I also have a little brother and his name is Ben. We were both adopted together when I was about a year old. Before my mom adopted us, we lived with my father. I don’t know where my mother was. We didn’t get that much to eat and I usually had a small box of cereal a day. 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Paul Lovejoy, Canada Research Chair in African Diaspora History stated: He claims that when his master, Michael Henry Pascal, gave him the name Gustavus Vassa at age 12 while crossing the Atlantic in 1754, he ‘refused to be called so.’ He apparently had not objected to the names heRead MoreJane Eyre : A State Of Perpetual Limbo1837 Words   |  8 Pagesacross the novel; at one moment, she is willing to accept that a life of teaching poor schoolchildren of the farming class is â€Å"not ignoble- not unworthy- not mentally degrading...† At another, though, she admits to her own failure to prioritize this personal liberty â€Å"at the price of caste.† Jane’s constant rebellion and desire for â€Å"liberty† grows to extend to slaves and those whose agency is diminished by social caste (occasionally referring to a generalized, maltreated â€Å"people†), but Jane uses language