So the prompt basically says to start an essay with the words 'Never Again Will I..." I recycled one of my old essays and hope that it fits the prompt still. The recommended length was 250-400 words and I'm at 450ish so any edits would be much loved. Thanks so much again.
Never again will I let my selfishness rule like it did when I was young. I have no recollection of my parent's divorce since it happened when I was just two and when the term "separation" didn't make much sense. My mom took my sister and me with her down to Southern California while dad stayed in Seattle. Life continued like this for two years until my dad drastically took all he had and moved to Irvine, an hour away from my mom's house. Suddenly, the man who I only saw on Christmases became a permanent fixture at my school assemblies and piano concerts. He braved the one hour trip across the I-405 every Saturday to watch me huff and puff down soccer fields and took me and my sister to live with him for the majority of weekends during the year. He strived to reconstruct the typical "mother-father" environment for us.
However, rather than recognizing the incredible commitment that my dad showed, I let my selfishness guide me. I detested the weekend trips to his house; "I don't know anybody there," or "There's nothing to do at dad's house," I protested to my mother. I wanted to stay at home and play video games with my friends instead of three-man Monopoly with him. I even lied about school projects just to avoid the dreaded car ride and having to spend time alone with him. Sadly, my selfishness and I often won.
Looking back at this period, I can only feel guilt and remorse for my actions. I failed to give my father the proper appreciation that he deserved. How many hours did he spend alone at his dinner table meant for six? How heartbroken must he have been each time my voice on the other line said, "Not this weekend"?
I've realized the hurt caused by my self-centeredness and though I can never compensate for my dad's hours spent alone, I can and must try. I've adopted that relentless drive and dedication of his. It is what carries me along the highway when I drive to soccer practice an hour away and what kept me up all night with my young camper David when he couldn't fall asleep because of his bug paranoia. I also posses that intent of my dad's to be involved as much as possible in the lives of those who matter to me. Family dinners take a foremost place on my list of priorities, and I always make time for foodventures with friends.
The era of selfishness that ruled over me for a decade of my life has come and passed and through it I've learned invaluable lessons. The chances of it coming back? Never again.
Never again will I let my selfishness rule like it did when I was young. I have no recollection of my parent's divorce since it happened when I was just two and when the term "separation" didn't make much sense. My mom took my sister and me with her down to Southern California while dad stayed in Seattle. Life continued like this for two years until my dad drastically took all he had and moved to Irvine, an hour away from my mom's house. Suddenly, the man who I only saw on Christmases became a permanent fixture at my school assemblies and piano concerts. He braved the one hour trip across the I-405 every Saturday to watch me huff and puff down soccer fields and took me and my sister to live with him for the majority of weekends during the year. He strived to reconstruct the typical "mother-father" environment for us.
However, rather than recognizing the incredible commitment that my dad showed, I let my selfishness guide me. I detested the weekend trips to his house; "I don't know anybody there," or "There's nothing to do at dad's house," I protested to my mother. I wanted to stay at home and play video games with my friends instead of three-man Monopoly with him. I even lied about school projects just to avoid the dreaded car ride and having to spend time alone with him. Sadly, my selfishness and I often won.
Looking back at this period, I can only feel guilt and remorse for my actions. I failed to give my father the proper appreciation that he deserved. How many hours did he spend alone at his dinner table meant for six? How heartbroken must he have been each time my voice on the other line said, "Not this weekend"?
I've realized the hurt caused by my self-centeredness and though I can never compensate for my dad's hours spent alone, I can and must try. I've adopted that relentless drive and dedication of his. It is what carries me along the highway when I drive to soccer practice an hour away and what kept me up all night with my young camper David when he couldn't fall asleep because of his bug paranoia. I also posses that intent of my dad's to be involved as much as possible in the lives of those who matter to me. Family dinners take a foremost place on my list of priorities, and I always make time for foodventures with friends.
The era of selfishness that ruled over me for a decade of my life has come and passed and through it I've learned invaluable lessons. The chances of it coming back? Never again.
