Personal Narrative

“This isn't happening today, this doesn't happen. The chances are to thin for it to ever happen.” Words sank and echoed off the cliffs. The camera still stood there, hooked onto the tripod motionless. No one to pan over to the sunset between the hills, no one to strike the compound and start driving home. It’s the last remnants of someone special. “I’m sorry for your loss, he was an amazing man putting everyone in front of himself. If you need anything feel free to let me know.” Tears rained off my cheeks. My brother held me as we stared at the steady camera. My mom’s face just reminded in the same position, in shock. I woke up, thinking everything was real, and my father had just passed away. The warmth of the blanket and sudden realization I was still in bed calmed me down. I don’t have to plan a funeral, because no one is dead.

Its eccentric and fast paced, gorgeous settings and easy to get around. There’s a little hotel, right by AT&T park.. The building itself stood 4 stories high, with that San Francisco style, rounded corner, bight green paint accented with teal an orange trims. It was in itself rustic, a living image of a 1800s San Francisco. The summer of 2015, held CAT equipment in front of the hotel tearing out the concrete of the street below. The hotel Utah Saloon was quite spunky, shared bathrooms on each floor whimsical characters whom lived in the hotel. My dad and I found it quite our