The Immigrant: A Personal Narrative-The Writer

538 Words3 Pages
The Writer She gazed longingly out the window as the rain poured down and she wished she'd known before now how hard it would be to move away from the coast. Here she had no friends but the land was beautiful with its rolling hills and hiking trails. There was so much to be gained from being here, Now that she was an older woman and remembered those days fondly. Somehow all the longing had slipped away, and had been replaced with a peaceful knowing that here is where she was meant to grow her roots. She looked forward to the coming days when she could talk to the classroom at the local high school and share her stories. She'd become so much more than that young girl could ever dream of. Here she was a successful writer telling stories that made her far wealthier than she though possible. But the true wealth was in the journey and she knew and took it with her where ever she went. I Am I try very hard to remember everything. Being a teenager is not exactly as easy as it is cracked up to be, especially when you are me. I've seen a lot in the short number of years I've been alive. I want to pretend that I've lived a sheltered life but it isn't true. I've grown up on the streets of New York City and I've huddled around the…show more content…
I'm getting ready to work on my homework. My desktop picture is a banyan tree and looking at it, I feel groggy. All of a sudden I felt something brush against my leg. I look down and realize it is my curly headed nephew tugging on my leg. He looks up at me and smiles and out of nowhere he grabs on to the branch of the tree that has slowly made its way out of the laptop into the kitchen. Rylen pulls on the branches as they snake into the living room. He starts swinging by branches while five dollar bills fall from his pockets. I reach down to get the five dollar bills for the sale at the wax museum and I heard a bang as my head hit the table where I'd fallen asleep doing my homework. I woke
Open Document