Personal Narrative: Childhood Memories

Ever since I can remember, (my first memories) Mother sat me on her lap and told me that I was special, that I would be used for something great one day. With childish innocence, I believed her with all my heart. I was nine when it first happened. I had just moved into a new neighbourhood in Preston, Idaho; this place was known for having the impossible happen. As I helped my parents weed and garden the dishevelled front yard, I noticed a baby robin lying on the grass underneath a copse of shrubbery. It was shivering with pain or fright, I couldn’t tell which. It must have fallen out of its nest and hurt itself. Without thinking, I had reached out and put my hand on the robin. Then something happened which thrilled

Instinctively, I head off in that direction. Soon, I come across a clearing shielded by a thicket of trees. Inside lies the biggest grizzly bear I had ever seen, thrashing around in pain and agony. I timidly walk closer and see that his entire upper body is covered with blood. Going still closer, I notice a faint smell of gunpowder in the air, mixed the coppery scent of blood.
Someone must have been out hunting and shot the bear, I think with a shiver. He is probably waiting for the bear to die so he can come back to collect it. I’m not going to give him that pleasure.
So with a newfound determination, I approach the bear. The bear, hearing the sound of footsteps, jerks its head back and glares at me with anger and fear.
“Don’t worry, bear,” I say as soothingly as possible. “I won’t hurt you.”
Something in my voice calmed the bear and he lies wearily on his side, tired of living in misery. I sink onto my knees and inspect the bear, my disgust for the hunter growing stronger and stronger with each passing second. The bear had been shot multiple times in the chest, stomach, and ribs. His dark brown fur is matted with both dried and fresh