Personal Narrative-Vigo's Story

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) Vigo's story Finally, I was on my way. On my way from something I did not even want to commemorate. Fortunately this chapter in my life, the miserable and sorrowful time, was now over. Or, to correct myself, I have to say that on that bus, the end of this time was only something I could hope for. And my faith was faintly weakened for each mile that the bus left behind. I was in a bus on its way from New York to Florida. There were three boys and three girls behind me, carrying wine in paper bags. They seemed so cheerful; maybe they were on their way to a vacation. It felt so strange and extraneous to see young and free people. I was wondering how others who had experienced the same things as I, could reintegrate in the daily society again. How they accustomed themselves, so they could again start a life. And how could I, a sordid man with a so miserable past, speak to people again? Suddenly a girl came over to my seat, and she asked if she could sit on the seat beside me. I thought it was all right. She was quiet for a minute, before she suddenly started to ask me questions. I answered her best I could. She asked me about the place I was going, and were I had been. I told her about the prison I had been in the last four years, and that I was now going home.…show more content…
I guess she noticed my reticence and decided to change my ways. I hadn't spoken to someone about my feelings for years, and right now I had so much of them that I just had to let something out. With implicit trust, I told her my innermost secrets. I told her about the letter I had written for my wife not a long time before I was released. I wrote that I would understand if she already had a new husband and did not want me to come home. But just in case, I instructed her in the letter to bind a yellow ribbon around the old Oak tree if she wanted me to come home to her and my

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