Briar-Personal Narrative

As a kid, me and my family used to take trips around the U.S. every three to two years. The first I can remember was the time we went to chicago. Me, and my brothers looked off the 22nd floor in wonder. Except for Briar, my oldest sibling, who was indeed deathly afraid of heights. I focused on a grand carnival in the distance, filled with light and colors that could catch any nine year old 's eye. As I continued staring through the blue tinted window, Marcus, my second oldest sibling, kept pretending to throw Briar out of the window; Despite marcus’s size compared to the giant of my oldest brother, Briar still freaked out and would retreat to the couch before walking back to the window to gaze at the city. It was around that time when the carnival

The sun gleamed through the window giving a feeling of grandness amongst the room. We were watching TV on this shiny new flatscreen, all the colors on it seemed more vibrant than the concrete jungle around us. Nevertheless, Chicago beamed through the night with beautiful light reaching all the way to the twenty second floor of the hotel and to our room. I watched as the car 's headlights below would reflect from one building of glass to another, bouncing around like an endless game of tag with one car chasing the other on any reflective surface. It was almost hypnotizing watching the cars go on and on. Being as young as I was, I wasn’t quiet use to being in a big city and seeing an endless stream of cars like this. Near the edge of midnight, we sat down as a family in the room with the kitchenette and watched ghost rider after a long debate of what movie we were going to watch and almost ended in battle of me and Briar against Marcus.There lied a half empty bag of popcorn on the small table next to the L couch, and multiple cans of diet coke and root beer rested on the coffee table in front of the couch. The abundance of Joy from the day seemed almost overwhelming, and watching the movie in such a jaw dropping place made my nine year old mind race.

My mom held a face of happiness and content, mostly because

When I was about Eleven right around the midpoint between spring and summer, a perfect day was no more than a dream held in my mind. As my oldest brother got older, the more common threats in the house were, Threats of throwing him out of the house when he turns eighteen. This came up in almost every yelling match Briar would start with my parents. When they got into these fights, I would go in my room with Marcus and play on the PS2 or pretend to do our homework while playing on Briars gameboy color. Really, we just wanted to stay out of the way so we wouldn’t end up being collateral damage in the sense of my mom bring up my report card. But Briars shouting was too loud this time to ignore by going in my room and shutting the world out. So I found myself swinging on the swing set we kept in our back yard for the kids to play on when they came over for day care. I was lost in my thoughts, like I usually was when I had nothing else to do. I remember it was unusually cold that night, with stiff gusts of wind doing most of the work of pushing the swing. I didn’t care about the cold giving me frost bite, I was too deep in thought. Never did I think about why they fought with Briar, or why Briar would come back from his friends house at eleven in the afternoon wearing different clothes than what he started out with. The door slammed open cracking through my thoughts like lighting bringing me out of my scattered mind and snapping me into cold reality. Briar Bursts out of the