Remembering Events
We have an essay due in English on Friday over an event that has made a difference in our lives. I wrote mine over moving up here to Waco, and I wanted ya'll to read it, criticise it and help me to make it perfect...
Shannon Carpenter
Miss Sterling
English 1301.14
September 29, 2004
“The First Big Move”
I was an actress, a musician, a tennis player, a volunteer. I was independently mobile and had no cares in the world. I hung out with friends every night and every weekend. Life for me as a teenager was perfect in many ways. But people change, the world changes, and I realized that the life I had wasn’t what made me happy anymore.
I remember the day I decided, halfway through my senior year, that I was going to move, and more importantly, I remember the day I left everything behind to start new. It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision to move 160 miles from my family and friends, but it seemed like it when I sat to discuss it with my parents.
I was very nervous that day, afraid of what my mother would say, how she would react, and if she would even care. When I told her she cried, made me cry, but she handled it in a way I had not expected her to. She was okay with me leaving and willing to help me in any way that she could. I was shocked, truly astounded, by her actions after that. I would come home from school and find small things she had bought me for my new house, or I would find her talking to relatives planning to have a party for my leaving.
Then the big day came. It was eight at night on July thirty-first and I was at my friend Jason’s house. I wanted to see him, be with him, one last time before I was to move away from him. He was, and is, my best guy friend and that night I stayed until five in the morning. I was feeling scared, excited, afraid, nervous, and dreadful of the morning light. I had not begun to pack my things and my friend Leith was going to be at my house at eight to load up her truck and follow me to Waco. That night Jason and I went to Wendy’s and had salads, came home and fell asleep on his couch. We woke up around three and just talked, getting to know one another before it was too late and the moment was gone. At five in the morning on August first, he looked me in the eye and told me that I did not have to go, but that I could stay here a few months longer, maybe another year, and let things play out themselves. When I told him it was not an option in my head, I was reminded how I only had three hours left to pack all of my things up before Leith would be over to get on the road. He walked me to my car, hugged me and I drove the thirty minutes from his house to mine, crying the entire time.
I expected my parents to be mad about the fact that I had not come home during the night, but when I walked through my front door all I heard was silence. Five o’clock and they were still sleeping. I went into my room and sat down on my bed for a while. It had not hit me until that moment that I would not be able to see my best friends whenever the urge struck, that I was truly leaving the shelter of my parents, and that my life was really about to be begin. I looked at my walls, covered with papers, all with different meanings. I saw the Coca-Cola ads that a friend, Nicole, gave me for Christmas, and I remembered the party we had and how happy she made me. But they also gave me the feeling of regret for the way we were leaving our friendship and moving on with our lives. I was not ready to say goodbye to her, but I also was not ready to give up my pride. I looked around more and saw pictures upon pictures of events I had shared with friends. Going to Johnny Carino’s for dinner, calling BINGO at the retirement home, birthday parties and our trip to Europe. I sat on my bed until six, thinking, crying, and allowing my emotions take over my body. While I had realized that I was moving, I did not realize that I would be leaving so many things behind, and that many things we already leaving me.
I heard clinking and clanking from the kitchen and knew that my mother had to be awake and that I needed to start packing. As I placed item after item in boxes I became numb to the feelings inside of me. The only thing that felt real was that I was finally going to be on my own and nobody would know my history. As eight rolled closer I packed more and more things into my trunk and set the large items in the second living room of my parents house. There were a few items I decided to leave at home until my roommate and I were to get a bigger apartment. I left my bed, my dresser, and my entire collection of Coca-Cola memorabilia. I sat on the edge of my bed, looked around at the blank walls, the empty spaces on the floor, and smiled. This was what I wanted, what I needed to do, and I was excited beyond words. I laughed, out loud, at the changes in emotions I was having that day, but I also decided that I was not going to care. This was my life and I was going to live it as I planned.
My older brother is the type of person who sleeps until two or three in the afternoon unless he absolutely has no other choice. That morning he was up at eight and helping me to get on the road before the day left me behind. When the time came for goodbyes, he hugged me and told me he was proud. My dad looked me in the eye and said, “I don’t know why you are hugging me like this. You’ll be back in a few days.” He still does not understand the concept that I no longer live at home with him. But the biggest goodbye was with my mother. I had tears in my eyes before I was in her arms. We were never close, I do not think we ever will be, but that day I realized how badly I wanted her as a part of my life. I hugged her, told her that I loved her, and walked out the door. She went into my bathroom, now my brothers, and cried. Her baby girl was leaving her and she was not quite ready for that.
Leith and I got in our cars and headed to the highway. Then I realized I had one more hug that I needed to give and we made a different turn, to my Aunt Beverly’s house. I couldn’t leave until I told her and her son, Curtis, goodbye. When we stopped at their house I was not ready to leave Austin/San Marcos, but I knew it was what I needed to do. They were my second family and leaving them was as hard as leaving my parents, if not harder. I remember sitting in my car for a few moments before deciding to go into her house. I was not as confident in myself as I had hoped to be. Goodbyes we not supposed to be this difficult.
Once I left, the two and a half hour drive up here seems a blur. My thoughts were racing and I was feeling every emotion possible. My moving would not have seemed so difficult if I knew that I was going to come back, but that was not, and still is not, in my intentions. I needed to get a job, register for classes, and get myself settled into a new home, a home where I was going to stay for at least the next three years. As I drove eighty miles an hour down interstate-thirty-five, I realized many of the things I took advantage of. I wanted to cry for all of the people and things I had not appreciated, and I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs for all of the things and people who had not appreciated me. But part of life is the good and the bad, and my moving was a good move in the right direction. My past cannot haunt me and my dreams can take me to wherever I choose to go.
That day, that morning, will live inside of me for the rest of my life. It’s when I realized that I was no longer a child and that I could finally do the things that I dreamt of. My freedom was there, but more importantly, my responsibilities were there. I could start my job, start my education for what I wanted to learn, and I could do this without having to ask permission. But I also realized how important my family and friends were, and still are, to me. I realized how they always supported me when I needed it, when I wanted it, and how they could be so forgiving in times when they probably shouldn’t have been.
Shannon Carpenter
Miss Sterling
English 1301.14
September 29, 2004
“The First Big Move”
I was an actress, a musician, a tennis player, a volunteer. I was independently mobile and had no cares in the world. I hung out with friends every night and every weekend. Life for me as a teenager was perfect in many ways. But people change, the world changes, and I realized that the life I had wasn’t what made me happy anymore.
I remember the day I decided, halfway through my senior year, that I was going to move, and more importantly, I remember the day I left everything behind to start new. It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision to move 160 miles from my family and friends, but it seemed like it when I sat to discuss it with my parents.
I was very nervous that day, afraid of what my mother would say, how she would react, and if she would even care. When I told her she cried, made me cry, but she handled it in a way I had not expected her to. She was okay with me leaving and willing to help me in any way that she could. I was shocked, truly astounded, by her actions after that. I would come home from school and find small things she had bought me for my new house, or I would find her talking to relatives planning to have a party for my leaving.
Then the big day came. It was eight at night on July thirty-first and I was at my friend Jason’s house. I wanted to see him, be with him, one last time before I was to move away from him. He was, and is, my best guy friend and that night I stayed until five in the morning. I was feeling scared, excited, afraid, nervous, and dreadful of the morning light. I had not begun to pack my things and my friend Leith was going to be at my house at eight to load up her truck and follow me to Waco. That night Jason and I went to Wendy’s and had salads, came home and fell asleep on his couch. We woke up around three and just talked, getting to know one another before it was too late and the moment was gone. At five in the morning on August first, he looked me in the eye and told me that I did not have to go, but that I could stay here a few months longer, maybe another year, and let things play out themselves. When I told him it was not an option in my head, I was reminded how I only had three hours left to pack all of my things up before Leith would be over to get on the road. He walked me to my car, hugged me and I drove the thirty minutes from his house to mine, crying the entire time.
I expected my parents to be mad about the fact that I had not come home during the night, but when I walked through my front door all I heard was silence. Five o’clock and they were still sleeping. I went into my room and sat down on my bed for a while. It had not hit me until that moment that I would not be able to see my best friends whenever the urge struck, that I was truly leaving the shelter of my parents, and that my life was really about to be begin. I looked at my walls, covered with papers, all with different meanings. I saw the Coca-Cola ads that a friend, Nicole, gave me for Christmas, and I remembered the party we had and how happy she made me. But they also gave me the feeling of regret for the way we were leaving our friendship and moving on with our lives. I was not ready to say goodbye to her, but I also was not ready to give up my pride. I looked around more and saw pictures upon pictures of events I had shared with friends. Going to Johnny Carino’s for dinner, calling BINGO at the retirement home, birthday parties and our trip to Europe. I sat on my bed until six, thinking, crying, and allowing my emotions take over my body. While I had realized that I was moving, I did not realize that I would be leaving so many things behind, and that many things we already leaving me.
I heard clinking and clanking from the kitchen and knew that my mother had to be awake and that I needed to start packing. As I placed item after item in boxes I became numb to the feelings inside of me. The only thing that felt real was that I was finally going to be on my own and nobody would know my history. As eight rolled closer I packed more and more things into my trunk and set the large items in the second living room of my parents house. There were a few items I decided to leave at home until my roommate and I were to get a bigger apartment. I left my bed, my dresser, and my entire collection of Coca-Cola memorabilia. I sat on the edge of my bed, looked around at the blank walls, the empty spaces on the floor, and smiled. This was what I wanted, what I needed to do, and I was excited beyond words. I laughed, out loud, at the changes in emotions I was having that day, but I also decided that I was not going to care. This was my life and I was going to live it as I planned.
My older brother is the type of person who sleeps until two or three in the afternoon unless he absolutely has no other choice. That morning he was up at eight and helping me to get on the road before the day left me behind. When the time came for goodbyes, he hugged me and told me he was proud. My dad looked me in the eye and said, “I don’t know why you are hugging me like this. You’ll be back in a few days.” He still does not understand the concept that I no longer live at home with him. But the biggest goodbye was with my mother. I had tears in my eyes before I was in her arms. We were never close, I do not think we ever will be, but that day I realized how badly I wanted her as a part of my life. I hugged her, told her that I loved her, and walked out the door. She went into my bathroom, now my brothers, and cried. Her baby girl was leaving her and she was not quite ready for that.
Leith and I got in our cars and headed to the highway. Then I realized I had one more hug that I needed to give and we made a different turn, to my Aunt Beverly’s house. I couldn’t leave until I told her and her son, Curtis, goodbye. When we stopped at their house I was not ready to leave Austin/San Marcos, but I knew it was what I needed to do. They were my second family and leaving them was as hard as leaving my parents, if not harder. I remember sitting in my car for a few moments before deciding to go into her house. I was not as confident in myself as I had hoped to be. Goodbyes we not supposed to be this difficult.
Once I left, the two and a half hour drive up here seems a blur. My thoughts were racing and I was feeling every emotion possible. My moving would not have seemed so difficult if I knew that I was going to come back, but that was not, and still is not, in my intentions. I needed to get a job, register for classes, and get myself settled into a new home, a home where I was going to stay for at least the next three years. As I drove eighty miles an hour down interstate-thirty-five, I realized many of the things I took advantage of. I wanted to cry for all of the people and things I had not appreciated, and I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs for all of the things and people who had not appreciated me. But part of life is the good and the bad, and my moving was a good move in the right direction. My past cannot haunt me and my dreams can take me to wherever I choose to go.
That day, that morning, will live inside of me for the rest of my life. It’s when I realized that I was no longer a child and that I could finally do the things that I dreamt of. My freedom was there, but more importantly, my responsibilities were there. I could start my job, start my education for what I wanted to learn, and I could do this without having to ask permission. But I also realized how important my family and friends were, and still are, to me. I realized how they always supported me when I needed it, when I wanted it, and how they could be so forgiving in times when they probably shouldn’t have been.