Kelly Dunegan
Mrs. Szerdy
12/7/09
Literacy Narrative
Sitting on my dads lap in the recliner, my mom across the room on the love
seat, reading Clifford the Big Red Dog. Joyful smiles on my parent’s faces, and the
deep concentration on mine as I stared intently at the pictures. A time when we
were happy as a family, soon after my parents got divorced.
Growing up in a split home, residing(av) with my mom, stepdad, and sister, I
always felt a sense to share my most proud moments with my dad. At the age of
seven I wrote stories on a regular basis, escaping(av) into my imagination. One in
particular I had cut blue computer paper into uneven squares. With it stapled
together I began to write. Each page filled with one sentence, and pictures that took
up most of it, about a black lab, and my family all together. I sat on the green couch
with little yellow specks, my elbows on the oak coffee table, facing the bulky
television set, incased in a huge stand. Alone in the room, silent except for my little
bursts of giggles, I continued to write my fictional story of what a little girl could
only dream of.
As I finished the story I proceeded to find my mom, and share my story with
her. Fixating on her face(pp), I watched as she flipped through the uneven paper.
Each time she smiled my face lit up, a sparkle(av) in my eye, mouth reaching from
one ear to the other, I became exuberant. My mom handed me the book, and I raced
to the phone, and called my dad. I stumbled mispronounced, and slowly tried to
read it to him. All he could say was that he enjoyed the story. I asked him if I could
read it again, and again to him. After some time rereading the story we said our
goodbyes. I placed the phone on the wooden computer desk, sat down in the
computer chair, and reread the story over and over to myself. I was extremely
proud.
My first chapter book, Junie B. Jones(app), took me to trouble and got me into
mischief, as she annoyed her brother, and messed with other kids.
Growing up(pp) I loved books about horses. My favorite series was Heatland.
The main character Amy, took me to Virginia, a small town where everyone knew
each other, and abused horses were, helped, fixed, cured(ajd out of order). Putting
dreams of what I wanted to be like in my head, I spent hours reading the books,
finishing them in one day. Helping me see what kind of rider I wanted to be(pp),
Amy always was jumping and clearing jumps, creating a bond with a horse that is
unbreakable.
I also liked to learn as much as I could about horses. One year for Christmas
my mom bought me a knowledge about horses book, it had breeds such as, Arabian,
Quarter Horse, and Thoroughbred(adj out of order), how to groom, tack up, and ride
properly. I took that book everywhere, to school, my grandparents, to the kitchen,
and living room.
Family problems taking off(abs), my book preferences changed in my early
teen years. I started to read books that had kids with problems. Trying to escape my
hard times, indulging into books that had kids with worse ones. These books helped
me keep a smile on my face, while inside hurting, locking deep down, the books
helped release it. The kids in the books understood me, reasoned with me, kept me
out of trouble, came alive, while other students my age did not understand, or try to
keep me out of trouble.
I tried keeping a journal through my tough times, but never seemed to be
able to keep track of it, or have time to write in it. Consumed with schoolwork, it
seemed like I never had time to read either. Reading became uninteresting, my
English class choosing the books we had to read, feeling like I was beyond that,
when it came to the moral of the stories, they seemed very childish. Maybe the
reason they seemed childish was because I experienced more then kids my age.
Freshman year Mrs. West, my English teacher(app), had our class read A
Separate Piece, not knowing it would be a book that would stick with me for years, I
read it. Becoming enthralled in it(pp), I did not put it down, becoming fascinated
with psychology, why, how could someone become so jealous of another to hurt
them to feel better? I guess my life is made of psychology and why people do what
they do, this book related to me in that sense. Even though everyone saw it as dark, I
found a connection with it, it helped me realize along with other things that I want
to help others with problems, maybe if they have someone to go to, they can feel
better, get help.
Mind escaping(abs), I fall prey to stories about love, fantasy, troubled
kids(adj out of order). I seem to analyze the kids, think of ways they could have been
helped. I like the fantasy, they take me away to places, I can hide, dream, wonder.
Every girl wants her fairytale, love stories may not be reality, but help me see that I
want to find someone like that.
Thoughts racing(abs), I free write getting inspired, either from a bad day, or
deep moment in time. Most of the time my free writes come out as poetry. I am not
so much a fan of writing about things that do not inspire me, or make me think.
Right now in my life I do not seem to have much time for reading or writing,
schoolwork, work and extracurricular have taken over. I have about a two-page list
of books I want to read; now I just need to find time.
In the future, I am not sure where I will end up with reading and writing, I
can only hope I continue. My sister, my friend(app), was never really into reading
until I handed her a Nicholas Sparks book, I hope in the future I can inspire others to
read, find a book that fills the void in their life.