Defining Self :: Personal Narrative Essays

Defining SelfI am from blonde ponytails and twirling party dresses, From leather seats and from the scent of public transportation. From all religions From all races I am from the fruit stand on the corner, from the flies brushed away by an Asian man I am from East 30 th Ave, between 1 st and 2 nd . I am from the laces of pointed shoes and the burning stage lights, from the hum of a cheering crowd, from the perfect kicks of a let loose line. I am from stacks of proposals and rows of numbers, from multi-colored c everyplaceclips, from a rubber band ball that really bounces if you throw it, from a view of Hudson Bay, from Lady Liberty. I am from an get by my parents did not share. I am from a white sailor hat, the sand, and salty sea. From Tollbooth and hurdles. From a companion just my height, from never being right. I am from trying hard, from being scared, from always being right behind, from loving every minute. I am from a tall, c out of date, moving truck, from the sting of ca rdboard box paper cuts, from hoping nothing material was left behind. I am from a nose pressed against a steamy window of the gray Honda. I am from good-bye. I am from the sidewalk where riding a bike alone is allowed, from skinned knees, and Band-Aid brand to cover up the scrapes. I am from two new additions that combat and hit, from the number changing to five. I am from new spiffy shoes, from warm sweater-worn arms pushing me through the door. I am from lumpy paste and body structure paper. I am from the founding sisters, from playground gravel, and from snacks of juice and crackers, from Dixie cups with colored dots, from holding small thin hands, from Kleenex boxes, and from strawberry jam. I am from long sleepovers, from covers pulled over frightened faces, from a baby doll hidden in the closet. I am from blushing cheeks and secrets revealed, from long telephone conversations, from nosy questions. I am from an old Coke bottle spinning on the floor, from shaking hands and ner vous laughs, from thudding hearts, from trying to act cool about it all. I am from gaga fights, from words not meant, from scratched out yearbook pictures, from a long letter, and from one I never wrote. I am from the confusion of a double family, from cheeks overheated with frustration, from a soft pillow.