Worked on this for 4 hours and it's 5 am and I'm pretty shut down. Not the best writer so I could really use people's honest input. Thanks!
The sweat is dripping down her flawless, pale face. I can see the determination within the deep creases on her forehead and the protruding bags under her eyes. I notice something peculiar about her expression that I rarely encounter; she's happy. My mother hastily fixes my makeup and adjusts my outfit before we head into the main dining room. I despise having to wear my traditional Korean hanbok because majority of the dress is made of rough silk and it easily irritates my skin and mood. I slip into the long, navy-blue skirt over my exceedingly prickly-pink blouse. Chills run down my spine as a result of my exposed skin underneath the paper-thin material. My mother is running around the room like she has no intention of calming me down it being my first time celebrating New Years with my entire family. I carelessly slip on my white ballet slippers and tie up my hair with the rubber band I found in the corner of the room. On my way to the doors leading into the ballroom, I notice my mother slowly steaming her hanbok with care. Her hair is in an elegant bun, pinned up by a delicate flower hairpin. She carefully slips on her white slippers as if they were slippers made out of priceless diamonds. The grin on her petite face is something that I cannot simply walk away from because it is so unordinary to see her so pleased about something that was meaningless in my feeble eyes.
At that moment, I understood why my mother appreciated Korean celebrations more than anyone else; she enjoys exposing her culture. Bringing Korean culture into a community with small diversity is an extremely difficult thing to do, however she manages to succeed in every aspect of it. My mother takes pride in her culture even if she moved thousands of miles away from her hometown. I undoubtedly turn around and stumble in front of the mirror, quickly pulling all of the pins out my hair.
"Mom, will you fix my hair so it can look like yours?" I pleaded.
I retie the bow of my hanbok into a more elegant masterpiece hoping that I could match my mother's spotless image. After the final touches to my hair, I look up into the mirror and I could see someone my family would be proud of. My dark brown hair was pulled up in a breathtaking bun with a glass hairpin going through the center. I'm the spitting image of my mother and I don't see one flaw about it.
The celebrations and cultural events I get to experience because of my mother are unforgettable moments that other teenagers my age don't ever get to experience in their lifetimes. My mother has steered me into the truth of culture; it should never be something that should be avoided or disposed of, but instead it should be forever be cherished and embraced.
The sweat is dripping down her flawless, pale face. I can see the determination within the deep creases on her forehead and the protruding bags under her eyes. I notice something peculiar about her expression that I rarely encounter; she's happy. My mother hastily fixes my makeup and adjusts my outfit before we head into the main dining room. I despise having to wear my traditional Korean hanbok because majority of the dress is made of rough silk and it easily irritates my skin and mood. I slip into the long, navy-blue skirt over my exceedingly prickly-pink blouse. Chills run down my spine as a result of my exposed skin underneath the paper-thin material. My mother is running around the room like she has no intention of calming me down it being my first time celebrating New Years with my entire family. I carelessly slip on my white ballet slippers and tie up my hair with the rubber band I found in the corner of the room. On my way to the doors leading into the ballroom, I notice my mother slowly steaming her hanbok with care. Her hair is in an elegant bun, pinned up by a delicate flower hairpin. She carefully slips on her white slippers as if they were slippers made out of priceless diamonds. The grin on her petite face is something that I cannot simply walk away from because it is so unordinary to see her so pleased about something that was meaningless in my feeble eyes.
At that moment, I understood why my mother appreciated Korean celebrations more than anyone else; she enjoys exposing her culture. Bringing Korean culture into a community with small diversity is an extremely difficult thing to do, however she manages to succeed in every aspect of it. My mother takes pride in her culture even if she moved thousands of miles away from her hometown. I undoubtedly turn around and stumble in front of the mirror, quickly pulling all of the pins out my hair.
"Mom, will you fix my hair so it can look like yours?" I pleaded.
I retie the bow of my hanbok into a more elegant masterpiece hoping that I could match my mother's spotless image. After the final touches to my hair, I look up into the mirror and I could see someone my family would be proud of. My dark brown hair was pulled up in a breathtaking bun with a glass hairpin going through the center. I'm the spitting image of my mother and I don't see one flaw about it.
The celebrations and cultural events I get to experience because of my mother are unforgettable moments that other teenagers my age don't ever get to experience in their lifetimes. My mother has steered me into the truth of culture; it should never be something that should be avoided or disposed of, but instead it should be forever be cherished and embraced.