Personal Narrative :: essays research papers

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, solely to polish off with or sothing no one in human form so-and-so 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, aromatic light. The atmosphere around me was quiet, but just a few feet forth people were mourning a great life. It was a life that some say was lived to the hourlong and the fullest. I ,on the other hand, held a solid disagreement. The longest couldnt yet be over, could it? Seventy-five just seemed too shortly 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 cut through the long, seemingly endless stream of soft healthy green divulge 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 given up a lot of my middle school life to. I had washed-out many hours practicing on this wooden contraption. Now both of my hard work, all of my hours practicing, would go into making this one piece sound amazing, spectacular, and memorable. This wasnt 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 get out grandmother. I wanted there to be one last queer token of my love for someone who had made such a capacious impact on my life. I knew that my grandmother had absolutely loved the occurrence 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 appareled wood of my instrument glittered golden brown in the evening sun. I reached f or it and picked it up. The usually very light instrument seemed to weigh more than I could ever remember. I walked in a straight line up the side of the church building. I passed the graves of many of the dead as I made my way to the door.