Personal Narrative: My Job As A Lifeguard

My job as a lifeguard is very challenging but yet I would say.. somehow rewarding. In all honesty, I never really wanted this kind of job. As a kid, I’ve always pictured myself as someone who wears different kinds of corporate attires for work. I imagined myself owning a pad or renting an apartment in a city, working on business plans, attending meetings and conventions, grabbing a cup of coffee on my way to work, and other stuff that a businessman or at least an office clerk usually does. Looking back at it, I don’t actually know if that was what I pictured myself or if that was just the kind of person I wished to be. But who am I to dream about these things? What stupid company would accept an applicant who didn’t even get to finish college?

In my junior year in high school, there was a week where I immediately went home after class dismissal, only to try to investigate information about my mother while my father was out for work. I used to look over his things, evidently without his permission. I accidentally found this medium box hidden under his table inside his room; an old treasure box-like wrapped in a small yellow blanket, latched with old, dirty ribbon. I have never seen that box before, and I have no idea what’s inside it. It got me curious as to why my father wrapped it, and hid it (placed, rather) under his table. I opened it purely out of curiosity and all I saw was a couple of sealed envelopes addressed to Melinda Tarlov but without any address. There were also some photos of two ladies inside the box; not sure if one of them is my mother, but I find both of them really beautiful. There was this photo of my dad with the other lady taken at Key Largo beach sometime in 1983; his hand placed around the lady’s waist, and the two them seemed really happy at that moment. In my twenty four years of existence, I would say that was the only time I saw my father smile like that, and it got me smiling, too. Looking at the photo, I began to think that this lady might be my mother. I didn’t see any resemblance in our looks, though; but a lot of people have been telling me ever since I was a child that I look exactly just like my dad. During that night, I thought about asking my dad again about my mother, but I didn’t want to see him looking forlorn again. Again, it left me pondering on the mystery of my mom, but this time I was wishing for one thing– to meet