Post by Fire Lily on Sept 2, 2009 21:52:14 GMT -6
People have many things that make them who they are. Everyday, we are influenced by other people, our actions, surroundings, and luck. We never know what will happen next, or how our lives will be affected and changed. Many things have influenced my life. Some have been for the better, and others not so much. Either way, my life has been affected, which has made me the person I am today.
One of my clearest memories from my childhood, was the time I learned how to ride my bike. My brother’s red and white tricycle was my first set of wheels. It was a great beginner bike, but I wanted to be like the big kids. They all rode two-wheelers. One day, my parents gave me a pink and purple two wheeled bicycle. It had glitter and two training wheels on either side. I thought I was the luckiest girl around. My brother and I rode our bikes all over our neighborhood. We would play cops and robbers, and have races. My father always thought I needed to get rid of my training wheels. He took them off, and on a night when my mother was working, took me out to our gravel road. I was ready. My pink helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, and gloves, were my only protection. After many scrapes, bruises, and toppling over, I finally succeeded. My mother came home from work, to see me riding my bike without my training wheels. It was one of my first big accomplishments.
A few years later, I started pre-school. It was one of the most exciting, and scary moments of my life. There were all these other kids, who I hadn’t seen before. When my mother dropped me off, I bawled. I didn’t want to be left there. After a couple minutes, I started talking to the other kids. We played with red, blue, yellow, and green blocks. Everyone wanted to play with the kitchen set. All the while, my friends and I would play with our baby dolls and beanie babies. When we went outside for recess, we would make up games, letting our imaginations run wild. I sometimes miss the innocence that came with childhood. Thinking back now, life was a blast. We didn’t have any troubles, and our lives were care free.
When I was in grade school, I went to a private school. Every week, we learned about religion, and participated in mass. By reading the scripture, talking in front of larger groups is easier. Butterflies still flutter in my stomach, but I know the nervousness will pass. In the fourth grade, I became an altar girl. I helped our priest during masses, funerals, and other ceremonies. It was an honor, and needed to be taken seriously.
At the beginning of my middle school years, I didn’t know what to expect. My twelve person class had been my closest friends for so long. The first day, I was terrified. It was like starting pre-school all over again. Not in the sense of missing my mother, but the same feeling of the unknown. People I used to call friends, began to talk only to people that were “cool”. They changed who they were to fit in, which I refused to do. Other people’s opinions didn’t bother me. I lived my life the way it was meant to, and wasn’t ashamed of it.
Two years later, I started high school. Once again I was thrown into a new environment. Because I knew a lot of upper classmen, they didn‘t bother me. New responsibilities were thrust onto my shoulders. At times, it felt like the walls were closing in. Fortunately, I was able to keep my head above water. I got my driver’s license, became first chair in band, a member of Honors Society, held a job, and some how managed to keep a 3.8 GPA. I became more independent, and continue to grow.
My freshmen year of high school, I got a phone call from my mom at school. My aunt had been rushed to the hospital, where she was put into the ICU. Countless hours were spent in the waiting room with family members. It became our second home. We ate, slept, and prayed there. I can still smell the cleaning products, and hear the heart monitor. I started to know the nurses by first name. Most knew my family, and would tell us as much as they could. The day I saw my aunt open her eyes, was one of the best days of my life. She looked directly at me, and told me she loved me. She was more worried about how I was, than her own well being. If that isn’t selflessness and bravery, I don’t know what is. I respect her so much.
Over the years, I have learned to ride a bike, make friends, be my own person, overcome differences, and the true meaning of bravery. The triumphs, failures, and everything in between continue to shape my life. I hope to take these life lessons, and put them to good
One of my clearest memories from my childhood, was the time I learned how to ride my bike. My brother’s red and white tricycle was my first set of wheels. It was a great beginner bike, but I wanted to be like the big kids. They all rode two-wheelers. One day, my parents gave me a pink and purple two wheeled bicycle. It had glitter and two training wheels on either side. I thought I was the luckiest girl around. My brother and I rode our bikes all over our neighborhood. We would play cops and robbers, and have races. My father always thought I needed to get rid of my training wheels. He took them off, and on a night when my mother was working, took me out to our gravel road. I was ready. My pink helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, and gloves, were my only protection. After many scrapes, bruises, and toppling over, I finally succeeded. My mother came home from work, to see me riding my bike without my training wheels. It was one of my first big accomplishments.
A few years later, I started pre-school. It was one of the most exciting, and scary moments of my life. There were all these other kids, who I hadn’t seen before. When my mother dropped me off, I bawled. I didn’t want to be left there. After a couple minutes, I started talking to the other kids. We played with red, blue, yellow, and green blocks. Everyone wanted to play with the kitchen set. All the while, my friends and I would play with our baby dolls and beanie babies. When we went outside for recess, we would make up games, letting our imaginations run wild. I sometimes miss the innocence that came with childhood. Thinking back now, life was a blast. We didn’t have any troubles, and our lives were care free.
When I was in grade school, I went to a private school. Every week, we learned about religion, and participated in mass. By reading the scripture, talking in front of larger groups is easier. Butterflies still flutter in my stomach, but I know the nervousness will pass. In the fourth grade, I became an altar girl. I helped our priest during masses, funerals, and other ceremonies. It was an honor, and needed to be taken seriously.
At the beginning of my middle school years, I didn’t know what to expect. My twelve person class had been my closest friends for so long. The first day, I was terrified. It was like starting pre-school all over again. Not in the sense of missing my mother, but the same feeling of the unknown. People I used to call friends, began to talk only to people that were “cool”. They changed who they were to fit in, which I refused to do. Other people’s opinions didn’t bother me. I lived my life the way it was meant to, and wasn’t ashamed of it.
Two years later, I started high school. Once again I was thrown into a new environment. Because I knew a lot of upper classmen, they didn‘t bother me. New responsibilities were thrust onto my shoulders. At times, it felt like the walls were closing in. Fortunately, I was able to keep my head above water. I got my driver’s license, became first chair in band, a member of Honors Society, held a job, and some how managed to keep a 3.8 GPA. I became more independent, and continue to grow.
My freshmen year of high school, I got a phone call from my mom at school. My aunt had been rushed to the hospital, where she was put into the ICU. Countless hours were spent in the waiting room with family members. It became our second home. We ate, slept, and prayed there. I can still smell the cleaning products, and hear the heart monitor. I started to know the nurses by first name. Most knew my family, and would tell us as much as they could. The day I saw my aunt open her eyes, was one of the best days of my life. She looked directly at me, and told me she loved me. She was more worried about how I was, than her own well being. If that isn’t selflessness and bravery, I don’t know what is. I respect her so much.
Over the years, I have learned to ride a bike, make friends, be my own person, overcome differences, and the true meaning of bravery. The triumphs, failures, and everything in between continue to shape my life. I hope to take these life lessons, and put them to good