Personal Narrative: High School

The air had a certain smell to it. The fresh morning dew, the smell of the new blossoming flowers carried through the wind, the smell of fresh pies being set out to cool on the window ledge. It’s been almost 15 years since one of the most tragic things happened, and the smell is still the exact same. I smell it on the early mornings in the April, just as the winter is ending and a new spring is beginning. The morning was young and so was I. Only being 16 around that time I was on my way to a place I would have describe as the fiery depths of hell, or as others may have called it High School. I hadn’t gotten a good night sleep as I was helping my mother with her new baby girl Abel. I ran into the school with my shoelaces untied, by jeans button undone, and my hair a mess. Since being late was almost one of the seven deadly sins at this particular school, I had to weave through the hallways trying not to be noticed by any teachers. Of course the head principle found me trying to get to class 20 minutes late. I could feel it deep in my bones, I felt it running in my bloodstream, I felt it firing the electrons in my brain, this was definitely not going to one of the best days of my life. The principal looked down at me with her grisly piercing eyes and motioned me to go to her office. After the short visit to the office, I knew I was done for. She had

I could finally go home and listen to The Beatles new song. I walked into my house and saw my little sisters wearing bright pastel colored dresses all huddled around the record player listening to one of the newer albums they had released. Setting my backpack down in the middle of the living room I slowly made my way over to my sisters. they giggled profusely, embraced me in a giant hug and continued to let me in their circle. They were the ones who had introduced me to The Beatles in the first