I am writing a personal essay for my senior english class (high school) and what our teacher wants us to do is pick out one quality of ourselves and explain through a story how we are that kind of person without saying the word. My quality is being persistent, never giving up. I am nowhere near finishing but please critique this. I start in the beginning talking about ballerina that spins when you turn the gear and relating it to how I have been functioning
Perched upon a circular, wooden stand, a small ballerina figurine stands still. With the absence of human action, the figure will not spin upon its gear. Moreover, no music will emit from the small contraction. It’s almost as if the ballerina could be compared to an individual. Without the help and guidance of others or one’s own mind, they will not be capable of functioning.
When a child’s father leaves for work on the daily, they are normally under the influence that their dad will return back home, being that it occurs in the same fashion each day. I was that child. I was so accustomed to my father often returning with some kind of children’s toy for me and open arms. I could confidently think that my life was perfect.
He was a hard-working man, a truck driver working long hours. Gone before I awoke in the morning and back before I went to sleep. In my eyes, it seemed as if my parent’s relationship was wonderful. It was rare for me to hear any arguments coming from either of them. But then again, I attended the morning kindergarten class and often daycare, so I could have been absent during any disputes that took place between my mother and father.
I remember it like it was yesterday. The day that I never saw coming. It was a hot summer day in June of 2007. Assumably, I was playing on our swing set or splashing around in the pool for a portion of the time while my mom sat outside on the deck. It was a day like each one before the last. Little did I know, that routine would change. The evening came around. Mom and I were sat at the dinner table. My dad always returned home no later than 8pm. I recall knowing that something had to be up when my mom insisted that I eat my dinner. We always waited for my dad. My young self asked my mother, “Where’s daddy?” Her response impacted my life forever.
UNFINISHED. I still have one more page to write. Maybe more of how life went on and how even though I’ve experienced the hardship, I still haven’t given up.