Personal Narrative: My Life On Ellis Island

I don't remember much when I was young, but apparently my mother took me to New York City on Ellis Island. My mom would tell me stories about how crowded the boat was and the hardships of Ireland she faced before she left. I was born in 1900 in Ireland because my Grandmother’s parents refused to leave her home during the potato famine of 1850 when she was a tiny baby. But eventually, my mom was forced to move out at the time I was born, to ensure that I had a better future. She described the process of going through Ellis island as painful considering that it reopened on December 17th and people were eager to come into America. Growing up in New York as an female was not easy because my mother had to work hard to ensure that me and my older

All the sudden we could smell the burning cinders of the fire and the place was in complete chaos. Distress everywhere, people rushing for the stairs, it was utter madness at its finest. At first I struggled to find my sister as the floor was crowded with people everywhere rushing towards the roof staircase. But she caught sight of me and practically bulldozed through the crowed to get to me. We rushed through the limited exit where we could see fire below us when we made it onto the roof. From there we could see people helping other people across the other roofs and in that brief moment of madness time seemed to slow down. I heard the bloody screams from down below as I got a brief glimpse of a man kissing a woman before they jumped from a window. People seemed to be jumping from the windows and I could see firemen failing to put out the fire and a big net that they used seeming to tear. My sister, however, brought me back to focus as she held my hand deeper than the fire could possibly have burned. I could barely see with all the cinders and smoke in my eyes, but I made out a masculine figure pulling me up to what seemed like the other