Personal Narrative Draft Pt. 1
My whole life i’ve been a swimmer. I never did the “sports merry go round”. I didn't play a bunch of sports when I was younger to figure out what I wanted. Actually, that is a lie, I tried soccer for half of a season when I was 7, but the first time I got cleated I walked off the field, crossed my arms, looked at my dad, and said I want to go home right now. So that we did, and I never touched a soccer ball again. I started swim team at 5, mimicking my mom who is an amazing swimmer. I swam every single day after school, my weekends were consumed with out of town swim meets, and my only friends, were also swimmers. I was still never the best. When I got to the high school level, I swam 2 hours before school, went to school, came back to the pool for 2 hours and then had an hour of strength training, then went home and did my homework. Repeat. My freshman year, at the end of the season, I was ALMOST the best. Then, I fell. I fell and tore my meniscus and shattered my knee cap, during the biggest swim meet of my life. I was out for the season, and after that, never swam at that level again. The thing that killed me, as I worked so hard, and I was still just ALMOST the best.
I’ve always been someone who things don't come easily to. I had to work extra hard in school, walking was a challenge for a long time due to the uncomfort of a metal ring, relationships didn't come easy as I came from a tough love family. But one thing always comes easy to me, and it was my relationship with my dad. Growing up my mom suffered from many mental illnesses, including bipolar depression. She had a hard life, being sexually abused by her father while growing up, and then losing 2 children to awful childhood deaths. She's a great person and a beautiful soul, but not so much a great mother. On the other side of that, my father is the best I could ever wish for. He always has been so caring and loving, especially when I wasn't exactly receiving that treatment from my mom.
My dad is the president of an electrical sales company called World Electric Company. His job is to be the middleman of the electrical sales world. He buys light bulbs and other electrical devices and then sells them to the company who actually install those lights, such as General Electric, GE. He gets to travel all over the world and see people, places, and experience cultures that some would only dream about. Growing up, since my mother was not in place to be my mother, my dad took me with him. He was too prideful to admit he might need help in raising his daughter, but also too nervous to leave me alone with my mother for long periods of time. His world was like nothing I have ever seen. As a young child, before grade school, I would tag along on his various adventures and meet various types of people from different cultures, backgrounds, and means of work. As I grew older, my dad began to lessen his travels in order for me to be in a permanent school. His meetings that used to take place at the top of amazing skyscrapers in Singapore or in 5 star fine restaurants in Paris, soon began to take place in my living room. These people I met, some women but mostly men (another thing that also amazed me in his world were the lack of women) were so impressive to me. These people, with their differentiating accents and languages, these people who were known at the world level for their successes in the business world, were in my house, talking to me about how I was the “spitting image” of my father.
As I began to grow older, I began to be mesmerized by these people, and in a weird way, they were mesmerized by me too, looking almost like my dad had somehow a-sexually reproduced and I was just a 16-year-old girl version of himself. By the time high school came around, I began listening to the meetings and words they would exchange and understanding them like the whole ordeal was just one big common sense problem. Like I had known the right thing to do all along. My freshman year of high school, I took my first business class. My dad was thrilled, my mom not so much because she was worried about me walking into his footsteps, which was rather ironic. The interactions and lessons I had in that class, for the first time in my life, were not challenging. I was not struggling to find the answer or looking around to see if I could talk to anyone else who got it. I was the person who got it. It just came to me and I immediately felt confident that I knew the answer and knew what the right business move was. Even the teacher my teacher, Mr. Deca, was very surprised by my almost seemingly inherited knowledge of this, to me, unknown world.
I began to immediately sit in on my father's meeting. I began to listen to what he said at the dinner table to my mother or the phone calls he would step outside for. I began sneaking off with his scribbled notes from conference calls and going into my room and reading them over and over again, amazed by how fast and logically his brain worked to find the best outcome for the situation, befitting not only himself, but the others too. I became immersed in this world of people working together, using each other's resources, to create and build something amazing.
Personal Narrative: 2nd Draft
“Hey Mad, where did mommy put your bookbag?” I remember the freaked look on his face when nobody in the house knew where that little pink monogrammed bookbag was. I remember his scattered hair, which was abnormal for his usually perfectly put together look when he was trying to figure out what the hell you pack for a 4-year-old going out of the country for the first time. He was running around the house like a maniac trying to find my dolphin stuffed animal that I refused to leave without, which was consequently inside the missing pink book bag. I remember him cursing himself for waiting till the morning of to pack my bag or trying to tiptoe around my moms' room at 4 am. And just like that, the bookbag was found, and he was on his way to the airport, a sleeping 4 year old in the back. He forgot to pack my princess hairbrush.
I don't remember most of the airport fiasco, as I was asleep in my dad's arms, pink bookbag in tote. Although I have been told, that I argued with the rather sizeable scary looking TSA agent as to why I shouldn't have to take my shoes off- because my feet were too small to hide anything and I didn't know how to tie my little blue converse anyway. I remember on the plane to France, crying because of the pressure in my ears and him trying to teach me how to pop my ears, which was a disaster. Finally, the old woman behind us leaned forward and told me to make the biggest bubble possible with my cheeks, and that worked. My dad thanked the women for about an hour.
Once we landed, I had awoken from my slumber and everyone complimenting my dad for how well I had been on the ride and how quiet, my dad's response was “this was the first time in her life she has even been quiet for more than 2 hours, she's like her mother in that way”, that causing endless laughs. He has always been an entertainer. My dad found his driver and was standing there, frustratingly trying to fit an American car seat into a French seat belt. It was a failure, and after about 10 minutes of holding up a line of cars, he threw the car seat on the ground, put me in his lap, and told the driver to drive to the nearest car seat relator, of course, he said it in French so it sounded like gibberish to me. We went into a Walmart looking place, and I picked out a pretty pink and black car seat and carried it by myself all the way to the car, I probably looked like a crazy person as I couldn't even see past the car seat. My dad put his hands on my shoulders, and we made a game out of it, he would give me directions, and I would follow.
We arrived at the hotel, and through the extremely tinted window, I saw one of my favorite people on the planet. Harriet was an older grandma looking lady, who was also my dads assistant. She went everywhere with him, mostly to keep him in check and take care of me. Their relationship was almost like a mother-son relationship. She had known him since he was 20 and just starting up the corporate ladder, and had been there for him through it all. I ran up and jumped right into her arms. My dad gave her a hug as well and told her all about the car seat situation, and she just laughed, “Everyone knows that car seats aren't universal Patrick.” Dad gave her my little rolling suitcase and set off for his first meeting, promising to see me later and that he'd have a big yummy surprise for me. Harriet and I went to the room and watched the selection of movies she had brought with her for my entertainment, while she exchanged countless emails with my dad about my wellbeing. He has always been a helicopter dad.
Dad got back just as Harriet was trying to put me to bed in her huge king size bed and it was already dark out. “She's been asking for you” “I know I'm late, I got here as fast as I could” My dad came in the room where I was brushing my teeth, I gave him the biggest hug possible with my little arms. He grabbed my bookbag and, and we set off, promising Harriet that he’d get me to bed at a reasonable hour, as I was already about half asleep. I slept in the car, and my dad carried me into the restaurant, he ordered in French so I was clueless, though even if it were in English, I probably would still be clueless. We talked about my day and his, and soon enough there was a huge dessert platter in front of me. I was so excited, but I had to wait to eat anything until dad took a picture for mom and Harriet. The waiting was excruciating. Finally, I think I inhaled the macaroons and chocolate croissants. I remember complaining to my mom on the phone about having a tummy ache and her just laughing saying “its ok, that's why we don't give you sweets on freelance.”
Dad took the rest of the desserts to go, probably for leverage to get me to listen to him throughout the week, and we went back to the hotel. We were in the same hotel as Harriet just a different room. It had 2 rooms and dad helped me get ready for bed, then realizing he had forgotten my hairbrush. He just laughed it off saying he would tell Harriet and we would get one tomorrow. He gave me a kiss on the forehead, helped me say my prayers, and tucked me in. I tried to sleep but it was an unfamiliar place, and I did like being alone at the time. I waited an hour and then got up and slid in bed with dad, all I heard was his little chuckle and voice saying “Goodnight Madison, I love you.”