Personal Narrative-The Family

The year was 1990 and I was at the tender and ambitious age of nine years. I am the youngest of

three with a two-year gap between each sibling. My two older siblings, Jason and Jenni, were

partners in crime during those youthful days. The three of us grew up on acreage that was shared

amongst my father’s siblings and his father. The shared property, also known as, “The Family

Plot,” mainly consisted of thick brush and pine trees. With enough exploration, one could find

domains of magnolia groves and giant oak trees that stood majestically alone, spaced perfectly

apart, and free from the entangled thorny vegetation. I can remember waking up early on

summer mornings, something I never manage to do on school days, running down the

The taste of black smoke covered my pallet as I powered through each bite. The

undercooked meat squished between my teeth as I chewed. With only two crawfish down,

nausea began to set in, and fast. Dizzy and disoriented, I could hear my mom calling out to me

that the first batch was about to come up. What have I done? I spent the entire afternoon like a

fiend for this moment, and now I’m huddled behind the house, expelling the raw meat and black

smoke that I worked so hard to obtain. Physically drained from the ordeal, I had little interest in

eating anything else, yet I could still hear my mom calling out to me. “Danny! Crawfish!” I was

in no condition to take my place at the table. Evidence of my mishap could be seen, and equally

smelled from head to toe. Jason and I would have to devise a cover-up, a crawfish coverup. Jason

quickly made his way inside the house to retrieve some fresh clothes as I stripped down to my

underwear and began hosing myself down. Jason returned with fresh clothes and I was just

donning my shirt when my father appeared. Half laughing, half serious, he said, “Crawfish