Example of a Narrative essay on English about:
childhood / memories / mother / child / happiness
It is obvious that all of our childhood memories are not accidental… When you are a child ever scent, every sound, every move, every toy, the first day of school, the first kiss, the first step..Everything together makes what is the personality of a man. All these are pieces of one whole entity. I was sitting and thinking –which of the memories I have is the brightest and most emotional for me….Is it the day when I stayed home alone for the first time? Is it the day when I was so disappointed with the Christmas gift I got? Or maybe when I broke grandma’s favorite vase and put it back together with glue? I was thinking about good memories and bad memories…moments of tears and moments of innocent joy. From one memory to another my heart started to feel strange and I felt really strange – like I was in a completely another dimension which exists only in my head. And then..BANG! I got it so clear that I started shivering…
I was about 6 years. My mom’s best friend left to another town and asked my mom to stay at her place with me for two days in order to look after her two sons. One was a little older then I was, and the second boy appeared to be super grown-up for he was already fourteen. I always enjoyed staying at their place – a lot of toys, a lot of space, video games – everything a child needs to free the most sincere smile. I remember the second day we were supposed to have the com-back party for my mom’s friend at here place…I wike up..Mom went to work and reminded me to be nice and clean by the time she will come back with the guests. I stayed with Tony, the older of the boys and suddenly somebody called him and though he was not permitted to leave me alone – he left. He said he will not be long….but it took him forever…I realized that I am alone… I cannot come out of the house…so I opened the window and thought that I was joking. And I was so desperate…so lonely...so betrayed… at that moment I pulled the curtain so strongly that I fell on the floor..And there I was standing – one little criminal...Desperate to escape and knowing that I will be punished for destroying the curtain that was not even ours….
But then something changed…I stopped wining…looked around and realized that I am in a safe place… that mom will come back and kiss me no matter what I have done. This was a moment of pure happiness…not the happiness of getting a new toy…or a dog..a going to the party of your best friend..It was the moment of clarity for me...the first time in my life when I realized that I am happy to have my mom and that I am safe. My eyes saw the world in different shades that moment. And by the way – I was not punished for the curtain… I felt asleep on my mom’s knees.
Memories from childhood make up some of the most popular topics that students like to write about on their personal statement. Partly because they tend to be moments that offered a new perspective or a time they look back to for clarity. Regardless what the reason is, it can be difficult to approach the topic because it’s intimate in nature. Here are a few examples from Northwestern, Yale and UPenn students on how they approach the topic:
University of Pennsylvania ‘17
“Marco”. . . . No reply.
And that was the genesis of a true life lesson. A game of Marco Polo that gave me a new vantage point on life.
Summer 2012, sixteen years old, long overdue on learning how to swim. In the words of Lao Tzu that “A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step” so too did my journey begin with one step. A step backwards as I tried to escape from Omar shouting “Marco.” A step backwards that would send me plummeting from the placid 3 feet water in front of me to the engulfing 10 feet of water behind me. View full profile!
Stanford University ‘17
The day our house caught fire I chose to accept my role as the leader of my household and assume its inherent responsibilities.
In the still and frigid hours of the night, I woke up to the stench of burnt plastic and the scorching pain of my smoke-filled lungs. Before I could fully comprehend the dangers of our situation, I was already dashing across the room, dragging younger siblings out of bed while sternly urging them to crawl outside through the back door. Read on.
Yale University ‘17
To the outsider, the chain-link and barbed wire fence enclosing the field did nothing to enhance its appeal. Save for a few trees and a couple of patches of grass that lay around the edges, the field was flat, brown, and dusty. On some days, when the wind was blowing just right, I could chase the dust twisters. I imagine that it resembled the sort of fields my Midwestern ancestors encountered during the Dust Bowl. Back then, more of life was about living with what was available. That the field was a barren, infertile place did not limit its usefulness. To me, that field was the perfect canvas. Continue reading.
Northwestern University ‘16
John, Paul, George, and Ringo.
These four names, out of all others, are the most recognizable to me. When I was six years old, on one of the first few days of first grade, a kid who would eventually become my closest friend asked me if I liked them.
“Who?” I asked.
“The Beatles! What’s wrong with you!” View full profile.
Northwestern University ‘17
I was born with everything: not five personal TVs and a butler, but happily married parents, a home, and a big golden spoon clutched in my sticky little fingers. Better yet, I didn’t even need to share. Growing up as an only child, “daddy’s little angel” and “mommy’s personal food critic”, I was a concoction of spoiled, spice, and everything not-so-nice—reflecting all the stereotypes of an only child. Keep reading.
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About The Author
Frances was born in Hong Kong and received her bachelor’s degree from Georgetown University. She loves super sad drama television, cooking, and reading. Her favorite person on Earth isn’t actually a member of the AdmitSee team - it’s her dog Cooper.