Personal Narrative: The Cheat Sheet

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Every Moment Counts I hug her knowing that this will be our last. Tears are streaming uncontrollably down my cheeks, staining her shirt. I'm not ready to say goodbye. I don't understand why this is happening. Out all of the 7.28 billion people in the world, why did it have to be her? A few years ago, a close friend of mine that played on my soccer team moved to Michigan. We have been on the same team ever since we were too little to even understand what soccer was. The time that we spent together during every game and practice has made a huge impact on our relationship that we have today. I remember the day Emma told the team about her moving like it was yesterday. It was at one of our soccer practices. Since it was…show more content…
The first gift was one of our team's old soccer jerseys that was framed, and had memories from everyone on the team written on it. The second gift was a scrapbook. Each person on the team got two pages to decorate of themselves and Emma. As everyone gathered downstairs, we all pulled out the presents and yelled, "Surprise!" Emma's face beamed as she saw what we had done for her. While the team had a group hug around Emma, all of the parents started snapping pictures of us left and right as if we were celebrities walking down the red carpet. When everyone pulled away and the parents left the room, Brian pulled Emma to the side and said a few things to her that I wasn't able to hear. I knew right away that it was time to say goodbye. Brian cleared his throat and said,"I hope you all had fun throughout the day with each other, but the party has come to an end. I will give you all some privacy to say your final goodbyes to Emma." After him and the parents exited the room, silence filled the air. Overwhelmed, numb,helpless...those were the thoughts that were repeatedly running through my mind. While this was happening, I didn't realize that tears were dripping off of the edge of my chin onto the carpet. Soon enough, everyone in the room started to cry hysterically. All except Emma. She was off playing basketball with a mini basketball hoop that was hung on closet door. "Emma, aren't you sad you're leaving? Why aren't you crying?" I questioned. "If I sit with all of you, then I will cry too, and then I won't be able to stop," she responded. I pulled her into a tight hug. Never being able to smell her warm vanilla scent made me never want to let her

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