Personal Story A Special Place Essay Example For Students

Personal Story A Special Place Essay Araceli! Come down and help me clean your brothers play pen, please. The plea breaks the silence filling the house. My two sisters and I have been cooped up in my bedroom all day long because of the cool weather outside. Fall has always been my familys favorite time of the year. The chilly air pierces your skin, making it the perfect time to sport our sweaters; we had waited all Summer to finally be able to wear them again. Fiery orange, sunflower yellow, and ruby red leaves will soon litter everyones yards causing grumpy old men a fit, knowing theyll have to be out raking all the beautiful leaves into tall piles, only for the wind to scatter them again. I push the frilly blankets off my body and leave the cozy little fort I had established in my bedroom. Diana, my eleven year old sister, and Abby, my seven year old sister, remain lying on the bed, entranced by the newest episode of Once. Sluggishly, I make my way down the stairs and to the living room. My mother stands in the kitchen, leaning up against the granite counter. Dominics pin is going to be absolutely disgusting Thats the only reason she would even ask me to help clean it. I think to myself. Mom quietly watches as I scrunch my face up as I peer into the pin, realizing my suspicions were correct. She laughs, Its really not that bad. Youre not here all day, everyday, to see the horrors I have to see in this house. You girls are filthy. I cant help but chuckle. That woman is an angel, the most patient and loving of all. After cleaning up various mysterious substances, I settle down on the olive green love seat. I channel surf for anything on tv, as if I hadnt spent the entire day staring at bright images on a screen all day long. I turn my head towards the kitchen, my mother walks into the room and plops herself right beside me. We sink into the couch and giggle. Where did you find that little sweater Dominic has on? I ask my mom. Oh, I didnt. Deyni stopped by earlier today to see him and bought it for him. Its cute, right? She smiles, knowing I already loved it. The sweater was heather gray with a red fox on the tiniest front pocket ever; it was sickeningly adorable. It is! I answered back. When did Deyni stop by? Ive been home all day, I had no idea anyone had visited. Around noon. Marcos and Erick were with her, too! I havent seen Deynis three-year-old son, Erick, in nearly two months. Her husband Marcos, too; hes the funniest, most kind hearted man Ive ever met. Deyni herself is moms best friend. In fact, I grew up calling her my aunt. Her daughter Stephanie is four years younger than me. Stephanie has always looked up to me as a role model, we grew up together as neighbors. She has grown to be a beautiful and intelligent girl, Ive always been extremely proud of her and her accomplishments. Our two families are closely knit, always have been. Anytime I get a chance to see Deynis family is special to me, so I was upset when I found out I had missed her today. I had no idea! Had I known I wouldve came down and talked to them. I miss them How ae they doing, though? I ask curiously. Well, I cant say theyre doing WELL, but theyre okay. Mom answers back. This catches my attention. Concerned, I continue my questioning. What does that mean? A worried look blankets my mothers face. This isnt good. This isnt good at all. Mom begins into her explanation. You know Deynis eyesight has never been any good. Yeah, shes pretty much blind as a bat. I think to myself. I nod my head. Two months ago, she said she was having more trouble than before. She could barely make out faces, and Im talking about sitting across from her at a table. I sit completely still, taking in everything that is being revealed to me. So, she asked Mrs. Harper if she could take a week off to rest her eyes and visit her optometrist. However, nothing helped. .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3 , .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3 .postImageUrl , .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3 , .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3:hover , .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3:visited , .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3:active { border:0!important; } .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3:active , .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3 .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u585d0bf09465f64a1ee36fcc924f76a3:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Definition of Thesis Parts EssayDr. Levign, during her appointment, told Deyni that he could tell theres something growing in the back of her eye socket. Our first thought: tumor. Dr. Lavign warned her, if she didnt seek immediate attention, there is a possibility she may completely loose her eyesight. This bit catches me off guard and sent a sharp, lingering pain into my heart. Oh. My. God. Was it? I question. Mom continues. The doctor wasnt absolutely sure though, so he referred her to the UVA Medical Center for further analysis. There, the doctor at the Medical Center suggested almost immediate action to stop Deynis episodes of near blindness. That sick feeling in my stomach lingers, growing worse and worse with each passing syllable spoken to me. Deyni was asked to participate in a surgery to determine what the problem was. The surgery went as planned with no complication. However, there was a problem. What we thought was a tumor, was actually something much worse. The words send chills up my spine. I know that no matter what is said next, it cant possibly be good. Deyni didnt have a tumor, she had a retinal detachment. I can feel my face fall, I see the reflection of a broken heart in my mothers watering eyes. I know my voice is going to break, but I ask anyway, What? What does that mean? Is it reversible, is she going to be okay? I try to mask the panic in my voice, but I know its easily deciphered. No, honey. A transplant may have been able to save her vision, had the detachment been from the eye socket. Instead, the retinas have detached themselves from her brain. A transplant may restore her eyesight, but it would only be temporary. Theres nothing she could have done, this problem is hereditary. We think maybe her father had the same issue. I lean forward on the couch and try my best to push back the tears. A wave of sorrow takes me under. All I can think about is her son and daughter. She may never be able to see Stephanie walk down the aisle, or Erick on his graduation day. Deyni hasnt seen her family in Honduras for over ten years What if she never gets the chance to see her mothers face again? How can someone who is so good, and with such a huge heart, have to suffer this sort of tragedy? It doesnt seem fair, right, or justified. This beautiful family deserves better than this. This must be what heartbreak feels like. Mom finishes the story, but I can no longer hear her. Instead, the fiery colored Autumn leaves, falling from their limbs and onto the yard, have my full attention. Fall has always been my familys favorite time of the year. The chilly air pierces your skin, making it the perfect time to sport our sweaters; we had waited all Summer to finally be able to wear them again. Fiery orange, sunflower yellow, and ruby red leaves litter everyones yards causing grumpy old men a fit; they are aware theyll have to be out raking all the leaves into tall piles, only for the wind to scatter them again. I feel mom lean her body towards me, she embraces me tightly. We sit on the couch, television off, and watch the leaves fall against the backdrop of the darkening sky. I hear the unmistakable noise of tiny feet pitter patter running down the wooden stairs. Diana, Abby, mom and I, all squish together on the couch. In silence, we watch the pretty colors fall and land gently on the ground.