Personal Narrative: The Road To Mississippi

Several years ago, I found myself riding in the passenger seat of my family’s car, riding west towards Canton, Mississippi. At around four o-clock that morning, my mom had received a phone call from the hospital regarding her father, who had been admitted that morning after accidentally overdosing on his numerous medications. A few minutes later, we were on the road to Mississippi. When we finally arrived in Mississippi, there were several cars in my grandad’s parking lot. My mom got out, and told me to stay in the car. After what seemed like an eternity, my mom finally walks out of the car and gets back in the car. That which sets my heart on fire, although not in a positive, passionate way, is the way my mom broke into tears that day. Since

After she had packed a small bag with some clothes, in case we needed to stay overnight, she came upstairs, woke me up, and after explaining the situation, told me to pack a bag too. Once we were both ready, we left for Mississippi. Several hours later, we arrived. Although it was 10 o’clock in the morning, there were several teenagers with their cars parked in the driveway, drinking. My mom told me to wait in the car, and told the teenagers that they needed to leave. She must have sounded fairly stern, because the group of teenagers quickly got in their cars and left. Then, she went inside to address my grandfather. After what felt like an hour, she got back in the car with me, sat there for a moment, and broke down into tears. I leaned over and hugged her, trying my best to make her feel better. When she had recouperated, she started the car and we drove home. She explained that she had given my grandfather two options: either come home with us and move to Montgomery under our care, or break all ties with our family; he was unable to leave, saying he had to “take care of his dogs.” Even after an hour of negotiation, my mom couldn’t get him to budge, so she said goodbye to