Thoughts Essay, Research Paper Austgust 18,2000, It is a bright summer morning. The sun somehow bleeds through the closed vertical blinds covering my window. When I fully regain my senses from being dead to the world for about 8 hours, I smell the aroma of breakfast being cooked. I must admit that s something that I m not custom to, but come to think of it here at my father s house is there anythng that I m going to be Custom to.
Thoughts Essay, Research Paper
Austgust 18,2000, It is a bright summer morning. The sun somehow bleeds through the closed vertical blinds covering my window. When I fully regain my senses from being dead to the world for about 8 hours, I smell the aroma of breakfast being cooked. I must admit that s something that I m not custom to, but come to think of it here at my father s house is there anythng that I m going to be Custom to.
There was a time that I thought my father was the scum of the earth. when I was five years old my grandmother used to tell me things like, your daddy is a dead beat, or he is a poor excuse for a man. Those statements led me to curse anybody that would tell me that I looked, acted, or smelled anyhere close to him. My grandmother was a sweet old god fearing lady with much power throught the community. Anyname that needed to be slandered give it to her and she ll take care of the rest. This time it was different. instead of adding feul to the fire, she struck the match. My grandmother had a tendency to stray away from her beliefs, but every word that she would speak was the gopel truth in my eyes and ears. To this day I just think she was trying to protect me.
At the age of seven all thoughts of my father had been pushed to the back burner. his name wasn t spoken in my family for about two years. Well at least not around me. that was still fine with me. The less we talked about him the better. At this time I was attending the third grade at tomoka elementary. I was a prodomitly white school, but there were still a few black students there. Most of them were from single parent homes like me. Everything at this particular time in life had been going fine until I heard the teacher say, today we are going to be writing papers about our fathers. It must have just been me because when she said that, all the black kids looked hurt and confused. The white kids had no problem the assignment. Well I was going to be the bold one, Mrs. Rossi, what if don t have a father. Then she replied, everyone has a father Darian. You are just going to have to ask your mother, and anybody else that knew him. That should hard no should it? I was not satified with the answer she just gave me so I said, what if I don t want to do one on my my father. Then she snapped back, you will or you will get an F for this assignment. Given the surcumstances I thought that was reasonable so I said, well geuss I ll be getting and F on this one. I got a few laughs out of the class, but she wasn t laughing. As a matter of fact she sent me to the office for smarting off. I went gladly. Beside what were they going to do call my mother. I m pretty sure she would be mad about something I didn t want to do because it involved my father. Boy was I wrong. My mothe was so loud that everybody in the main office could hear her. The words out of her mouth were coming so fast I couldn t understand half of them. All I remember is, when you get home you ain t goin no where cause you workin on that paper.
That afternoon I got a couple of licks for smarting off at the teacher, but I also heard words that changed my whole outlook on life and what has happened so far. I told her that I thought she would agree with decision not to write the paper about my father. Then she said, why would I do that your father was not a bad one. Just because he wasn t here doesn t mean he wasn t helping. She explained to me that they had me at a very young age, and the only thing he could do to keep his head above water was join the military. oh that would explain why I haven t seen or talked to him, I said. Then I asked her, what about grandma and what she says about him? My mother began to get angry. I was thinking this was a bad thing. Her voice started to raise, Your grandmother never did like your father and wont ever like you father. She believes that he took her baby away from her. Sometimes you got to get over the facts and realize what s done is done, and you can t go back and undo it. she started to cry, so I started to cry too.
Every since that day I ve made up my mind never to count anyone out. Because thing are not always what they seem to be. With my change of perspective I was able to form some kind of relationship with my father. I am a better man because what I know about my father and what I witness my mother go through as a single parent. On augut 17, 2000, I gave my mother a little break. I moved in with my father.
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