Personal Narrative: My Routine In My Life
During the everyday routine it is hard to understand some sort of things happening around us. It is almost impossible to distinguish valuable moments and advice given us by our dear relatives, and it is also easy to miss the experience that can significantly influence people’s lives. I am not an exception. I remember the exact day when I seriously thought about my life for the first time ever. It was late fall and the weather was not the best for that time. It was cold enough to skip a day of routine and dedicate the whole day to reading. That day settled in my memory for good.
My life from Monday to Friday was not so interesting that it is even not worth mentioning. Nevertheless, it was Saturday and I decided to stay late in bed. It seemed to me that a new book I recently bought was going to be read that day. But a sudden
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I have never felt this way before and I still do not know how people call this feeling. Desperation? Confusion? No, I am sure none of them, but it has gone quickly away.
My childhood memories were over and my mind was filled with pictures from that time. Then, I could not stop recalling moments of different recommendations my grandmother used to give me. When I first went to school, she told me about the importance of knowledge. So, it happened to be that all my willing to study came from her words. When I went to the first date in my life, she told me about her love story with my grandfather. All these unnoticeable hints became now a significant story, in particular the life story.
When tears disappeared, all thoughts which entered my head were collected in one. It looked like I woke up from a dream and could not find myself in this place. Actually, this place seemed ordinary, but not for me. Tiny elements were decorating the room. Shelves with books, a fish tank, little curtains, cello playing… All of them made me feel comfortable, like I was sitting at home, in particular at my grandmother’s
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1125 Words | 5 PagesI want her to come back. I miss her more than anything. I get that dad is trying to do his best; I mean, what is he supposed to do after something like this has happened? I got to school, seeing the old rusty sign that says “Bronx’s Middle School”. That sign is where my old friend group would meet every morning, but now it’s just a rusty old sign for me.
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