Personal Narrative: The Road To Mississippi

Seven million three-hundred thousand Children nationally are affected with parents having to be in jail for days, weeks, months, and even years. For ten days I was affected by my father being in jail at Leavenworth County Jail. To some, this is nothing but to my family this was a big deal. Not only was he gone for ten days, which was longer then he’d ever been gone before, but we had to take him there and watch as he walked away from his wife, his kids, and his freedom.

Being from Louisiana, I was raised to always have my own back. My family is very big, I have 3 sisters, 2 brothers. I live with my mom and step-dad and occasionally visit my biological dad and step- mom. My family are encouraging and sometimes can be helpful. They expect the best from me being that I am the oldest child. They want me to accomplish more than they did when they were my age and I will.

“I’m so bored, Dad.” I groaned. I slumped against the boathouse wall. Even though I typically hate boats, I vividly recall being so irritated that the ferry hadn’t come yet. I was at Star Line 's boathouse on Mackinac Island, and we had been waiting for at least 20 minutes for a ferry. I was beginning to become bored and angry. I was thinking, This is so boring. Then a slow, lackluster ferry came into view. Its eroded chairs were dirty as a worm’s playground. Then it started refueling. “Ugh,” I said.

It was April 2016 when we were sitting at the dinner table late at night with our family friends. My mom’s phone began to ring. When I saw her reaction, I knew immediately. Her face was pale and she held her hand to her head in disbelief. I knew it was grandpa. Although we knew the death of my grandpa was coming, I never actually wanted to experience the loss. I stood in front of the mirror, staring at myself, crying continuously.

January 11, 2013, I wake up to yelling, prayers, and crying. I walked into the kitchen where all the noises were coming from and I found my mother on the floor crying, talking on the phone with my godmother. My father was there by her side, trying hard not to cry while supporting his wife. I didn’t know what was happening, this was the first time I’ve seen my mom so vulnerable and broken. My parents didn’t tell me anything other than my grandmother was in critical condition at the hospital, but with god's help she would overcome this hard time. My mom hung up the phone and went to “La Grande” a Mexican store to buy a card to call my uncle in Cuba, to see how my grandmother was doing. My godmother has two daughters who work at the hospital

I never was really close with my grandfather. I’ve pretty much lived in Utah my whole life. I was born in Richland, Washington, but I have no memories of living there because my family moved here, to Utah, when I was two. The majority of my family, from both my mother’s and my father’s side, live in the northwest. I only go to Washington/Oregon maybe once a year. Even when I go I don’t see the majority of my family. Both my mother and my father have had issues with their parents and some of their siblings, which is why we don’t visit most of them. When I was younger, I went to my grandparent’s house in Pasco, Washington every summer. Even then, it was just me, my sister, and my grandmother. My grandfather

Several individuals from different ethnicities, races, and citizenships, compose a society. The United Sates allow us to have a close interaction with numerous individuals from diverse backgrounds. In my own case I have been able to interact with many incredible individuals from all over the world who come from extremely different backgrounds. I am a proud Mexican who cherishes respect towards diversity. Coming from a very suffered country I am able to understand not only what does it means to feel proud to be a Latino, but also I can feel acquainted with the pain and struggle that our community has to face every day.

Getting down to Nebraska was harsh and the trail was dusty. The children like me had to take care of the animals. Jim, Antonia and myself became really good friends after living next door to each other for a while and we do everything together. When I work, I help my dad to plant and harvest crops and hunt for food. We planted and harvested corn, potatoes, pumpkin, wheat, peas, carrots and tomatoes. In the years I lived in Nebraska, people died sooner because all of us didn't have the certain type of medicine to keep people alive longer. When I went out with friends, we would take turns on who took the wagon out and if it was my turn and the wagon broke down I would have to fix it myself. We have both rich families and poor families in my town. I have a friend that

I was born in New Orleans, but raised in Brooklyn. For several reasons my parents decided to leave NOLA shorty after my birth. From then on, I was raised in New York state; more specifically Brooklyn. It wasn't until the age of sixteen that I finally returned to my home city. My parents had just divorced and for that reason, my mother no longer wished to stay in New York. We took only the essentials and traveled to New Orleans, where family was waiting to take us in. I didn't like the idea of leaving the only home I had ever known, but I liked New Orleans all the same. During my teen years, I wrestled with the idea of returning to New York, but I found a certain comfort in NOLA and so I eventually decided to stay.

My mom and and dad told me in December that we were going to Gulf Shores, Alabama to visit my grandparents.Gulf Shores is the southernmost town in Alabama, located on the north coast of the Gulf of Mexico. I have been there twice when I was little. I remember that I collected seashells and went swimming with Boppa in the pool. I felt happy that I was going to Alabama again. I like seeing my grandparents and I like that they are still there. I think the weather is going to be warm and I am thinking about having a fun time when I am there. I was very happy to hear my mom and dad tell me that I was going to Alabama.

Fatigue has manifested in both my mother and I, you can tell by just looking at us. I saw it in her eyes as she looked at me—but it was not really when she looked at me; rather, it was when she looked away. Her physical being was with me, but throughout the interview I wondered if her mind was elsewhere. The likelihood of her mind being elsewhere was rather high, given that we were discussing her lifelong battle with diabetes. Although my mother was diagnosed with diabetes during her pregnancy with me, according to her doctor, her body was extensively damaged from the years the diabetes went undetected.

As the crow flew across the sky, I felt a thick breeze of wind hit me in the face, I heard several voices talking a language I'd never heard before. I was born in southern Europe, and everyone around me was just another figure. I saw men, women, and tiny children, looking like they had been starving for quite some time. I, however did not look much different, but I guess it is the thought of more people starving than just myself.

I live in a minuscule town in Western North Carolina, where southern traditions are very important to the majority of the population. Such as drinking sweet tea, eating biscuits and gravy, and going to church. Here within one of those important traditions lies why I had to take such a significant risk. At the beginning of my eighth grade year of middle school, only a mere thirteen years of age, I knew I was different. However, what made me different would surely turn many against me. I came out as gay to a close few, making sure those I told were trustworthy and accepting. By living in such a small town, word travels fast, and many are quick to talk, therefore it was important for me to be cautious with whom I told, until I knew I was completely

Me and my boys are finally leaving independence to alcove springs which is 166 miles away and will take us about 6 days. My luck is that the train in front of ours were a bunch of city people couldn't handle their animals so we had to sit there for about an hour then we finally went on our way then we noticed a problem there was too much weight so I looked inside the wagon and there was a big dresser in there with nothing in it so we had no choice to throw it out the dresser didn't really mean much but it was expensive but after we get to Oregon and start farming we can buy another one. We reached the Kansas river and we thought it would be really risky to cross with the wagon so we paid 1 dollar to cross on a raft. As we keep on walking I

Betty was born August 30, 1930 in southern Missouri. Her parents, Maggie and Casey, were your everyday farmers in Christian County. She had an older sister, Wanita, and an older brother, Wayne, as well as a few younger siblings. Growing up, she was blessed to be in a Christian home, where your faith was everything.