Blog post number 5 coming at you! This week we are getting pretty emotional, which is right up my alley. We were advised to read two short stories. One is a piece by one of my favorites, Maya Angelou. I have actually read this story a while ago. The other piece is by Ernest Hemmingway, who is also one of the most famous writers that I have heard about. The strong emotions in these writings and the seriousness of the real situations these people went through very much so relates to a lot of my writing, especially this blog post. We were assigned to share an emotional moment we have had with someone in our lives. Me being the way I am, I had a million scenes that I've had in my life pop into my head.
My Name is Margaret (Maya Angelou) Hills Like White Elephants It was a Saturday night, fairly late. I was around 5 years old. I don't recall ever spending the night at my fathers house before this night. My mother and father had agreed that I should spend more time with him, so they arranged a sleepover. At first I remember being pretty excited about it, since I never saw my dad all that much. But when the day actually came and my Mom was helping me pack a few things, I got this extremely uneasy feeling. My father was coming to pick me up that evening. As the hours were going by, this uneasy feeling became worse. I was so young at the time, so I really didn't understand why I felt like this. I mean, this was my Dad. Someone I should be happy to see and be around. Why was I feeling like this? My father picked me up, and as I hugged my mom goodbye, I didn't even want to let go. I walked out the door and got in my dad's car. He was happy to see me, and on the outside I was too. But on the inside, I wasn't. We got to this apartment. He still lived in the one that him and my mom lived in when I was first born. I put my things in the spare bedroom he had, and we go down to the basement. "What would you like to watch on TV?" He says to me, flipping through the channels. "Oh, it doesn't matter. I guess cartoons if they are on this time of night." I said, taking a sip of the chocolate milk he poured for me. He put something on and he sat on the floor while I laid on the couch. He was making some conversation with me, and I laughed a few times. It was getting late, and I usually would be in bed by now, but for some reason I wasn't tired. "Do you want to go to sleep?" He asks. "Yeah, I am getting pretty tired." I wasn't. But I didn't know what else to say. We walk upstairs. He hugs me goodnight, and I walked into the bedroom. The guest bedroom he had gave me a very cold feeling. I was laying in bed, staring up at this flower picture he had on the wall. I couldn't help but think how badly I wanted to be back home with my mom, but I didn't understand why. At this point, I looked over at the clock. It said 1:34 am. After maybe an hour of laying there in the dark, I got up. I slowly opened his door. He was sleeping. "Dad?" I said, in a very shaky voice. He wakes up right away and turns over towards me. "What's the matter?" He asks, clearly confused as to why I was waking him up in the middle of the night. "I can't sleep" I said. "I really want to go back home and see mom." "What?" He says, shooting up out of bed. "Why?" "I'm not sure, but I just want to go." I say to him. He gets up and walks me with me to the living room. I sat down on the couch and he was standing over me, questioning me about why I felt the way I did. I started getting more and more upset. "I don't know! I just want to go back home!" I cried. "I just want to see mom!" "But Kellie, it's me, your dad!" He starts to panic and yell to me. "Why don't you want to stay here?" I continued to cry, and it was to the point where I was absolutely hysterical. There was tears running down my face and it was extremely hard for me to calm down. "I can't take you home right now, Kellie" He says to me. "It's the middle of the night, I'm sure your everyone at home is sleeping. I will take you home first thing in the morning." After a little while, I decided to go back to the bedroom and try to fall asleep. As I laid in this bed, I looked up at the picture of the flower again. I thought to myself, "if I just keep looking at this flower, hopefully I will eventually fall asleep." This story I shared for this blog post shows the real emotion of how a parents divorce can effect the child. I was so used to being at home with my mom, that my dad almost seemed like a stranger to me.
2 Comments
Sabatino
2/18/2020 08:25:05 am
CIF
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Sabatino
3/2/2020 01:26:01 pm
Now that others have had time to comment, I will say that I see powerful emotions being explored in this narrative. I also see use of symbolic literary language and conflict. Thank you for sharing such a personal moment from your life.
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Kellie KalbachThis is my blog page. I'm using this page to experience the beautiful yet messy process of writing. Enjoy! Archives
May 2020
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