Analysis Of Autobiographical Narrative: Yorkshire

Autobiographical Narrative: Yorkshire This past summer, I said goodbye to a house that had been in our family for 51 years. This house was always, in my family, known as “Yorkshire”–very simply named after the street it was on. Although I was not around for the beginning of this house’s story, I do know that my great-grandfather and great-uncle built the house in 1964 for their wives and their nine children. I never lived in the house but everyone in my family spent a great deal of time there. For 16 years of my life, I made countless memories at Yorkshire. From family celebrations to quirky little traditions and games, I have held those memories with me my whole life.

We had “Birthday Sunday” every month where 50 or more family members would come together to celebrate all birthdays in that month. We celebrated every holiday, baby shower, and wedding shower together in that house. Everyone received Christmas presents there in a small room with everyone crammed together and wrapping paper flying everywhere. Every Easter, when we were young, we had an Easter egg hunt around the huge front yard. During the hunt, the ultimate prize was “the golden egg” that had a whole dollar in it. If you found

We loved pretending we led different lives than we did. We snuck into the laundry room to steal snacks and drinks, even though the snacks and drinks were not supposed to leave the kitchen. We explored outside a lot and we would roll down the giant hill in a race and play hide-and-seek in the willow trees. We would gather up leaves and twigs and throw them into a pot and stir them up with a stick and call it “soup.” There were two things, though, that I enjoyed more than anything else in that house: throwing things down the laundry chute so my cousins could catch them and crawling under the table to get out of the booth when you’re crammed in between