OPPapers.com Essay Index >> English >> Personal Narrartive
We have many free term papers and essays on Personal Narrartive. We also have a wide variety of research papers and book reports available to you for free. You can browse our collection of term papers or use our search engine.
Personal Narrartive. A calm crisp breeze circled my body as I sat emerged
in my thoughts, hopes, and memories. The rough bark on ...
Submitted by Pinkacid741 on September 14, 2005
Category: English
Words: 999 | Pages: 4
Views: 94
Popularity Rank: 77,470
Average Member Grade: N/A (Add a Comment / Grade this Paper)
A calm crisp breeze circled my body as I sat emerged in my thoughts, hopes, and memories. The rough bark on which I sat reminded me of the rough road many people have traveled, only to end with something no one in human form can contemplate.
“How can the complex working of the universe and the world around me end in such a simple catastrophe?” I wondered.
I sat back and let the sun bathe me in its bright, reminiscent light. The atmosphere around me was quiet, but just a few feet away people were mourning a great life. It was a life that some say was “lived to the longest and the fullest.” I ,on the other hand, held a solid disagreement. The “longest” couldn’t yet be over, could it? Seventy-five just seemed too short when I had only shared thirteen years with this fabulously, wonderful woman.
I stood up, as the loud vibrations of the church bells seem to touch my heart. I crossed the long, seemingly endless stream of soft healthy green grass to the black box, which lay just as I had left it in its own solitude. Inside of it lay the violin in which I had devoted a lot of my middle school life to. I had spent many hours practicing on this wooden contraption. Now all of my hard work, all of my hours practicing, would go into making this one piece sound amazing, spectacular, and memorable. This wasn’t something I was doing for myself. This was something I was doing for my family, friends, and most importantly the sweet, cherished soul of my dearly departed grandmother. I wanted there to be one last remarkable token of my love for someone who had made such a large impact on my life. I knew that my grandmother had absolutely loved the fact that I play a violin. She had always said that I held so much talent.
“This,” I thought, “will be something that she truly would have wanted.”
I opened the box and looked at the soft velvet casing. The freshly polished wood of my instrument glittered golden brown in the evening sun. I...
You must Login to view the entire paper.
If you are not a member yet, Sign Up for free!