Personal Narrative: My Childhood Home

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Tears streamed down my face as I took one last look at my childhood home. It was a bittersweet moment. I had been longing to move to California for months, but it was not until that moment had I realized how much I would miss Georgia. When I finally stepped into the car, my heart felt like it was shattering into pieces. I would be leaving behind a good life, one full of loving friends and neighbors, in replacement of moving across the country to a place that I had never before seen. Little did I know that I would be in for an adventure of a lifetime. Instead of being practical and flying across the country to California, my parents made me and my four younger brothers hop in a mini-van and drive across the country. When my parents first proposed the idea, I thought they were insane. However, now looking back on it, I am grateful for the experience. Driving across the country taught me a lot of things, and definitely opened up my perspective on the United States as a whole. However, the most important thing that I took away from that trip was that most of the United States is full of blue-collar workers who live in small towns. But, it’s not like any of these towns are comparable or even close to San Francisco, Los Angeles, or New York. Instead, these towns are tiny. They only consist of a couple of streets full of mom-and-pop shops, and if they’re lucky they might have a neighborhood Walmart. The houses are even smaller. Most of them are traditional or old victorian homes
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