guys. please help me make this a williams standard essday.
critique and suggest if i should scrap this essay alltogether.
any andecdotes i can use? what else can be done?
as of me, i am happy with the beginning and the ending.
meh.
I see the broken glass on the floor. The bright sunlight sifts through the window and reflects through the broken glasses, shining like a thousand little diamonds. The sparkle blinds me momentarily as i stoop down to pick up the shattered (family) photo frame. I look through the window that sifts the sunlight, going down the memory lane.
My mother has been a role model in our house as my father, a civil service official, was usually posted in different cities for work. She would make sure that we could feel the absence of father. Amidst starting her own school and working for it day and night, she would make sure we didn't lack behind in our education and sports. Every day in the evening, she would send us, my elder siblings and me, to the nearby stadium and get us trained by an athletic coach so that we had a healthy body. When we would come back, she would sit with us and administer our studies, ensuring our wits were sharped as well. The school was her other child whom she worked for day and night. She singlehandedly took care of her children, did the household chores and run the school as well. I could hear her pray for the strength to do her daily chores, every night and yet I could only do a diminutive part to help her in every way.
I blow the glass particles off the photo frame and keep it on the table. I pick up each broken piece of glass, one by one, so as if recollecting the broken fragments of my past. I put the shattered pieces in the disposable back, bracing myself for the forthcoming life. I am what my mother has invested in me. I am ready for the coming world, knowing that the hand of my mother is on my back.
critique and suggest if i should scrap this essay alltogether.
any andecdotes i can use? what else can be done?
as of me, i am happy with the beginning and the ending.
meh.
I see the broken glass on the floor. The bright sunlight sifts through the window and reflects through the broken glasses, shining like a thousand little diamonds. The sparkle blinds me momentarily as i stoop down to pick up the shattered (family) photo frame. I look through the window that sifts the sunlight, going down the memory lane.
My mother has been a role model in our house as my father, a civil service official, was usually posted in different cities for work. She would make sure that we could feel the absence of father. Amidst starting her own school and working for it day and night, she would make sure we didn't lack behind in our education and sports. Every day in the evening, she would send us, my elder siblings and me, to the nearby stadium and get us trained by an athletic coach so that we had a healthy body. When we would come back, she would sit with us and administer our studies, ensuring our wits were sharped as well. The school was her other child whom she worked for day and night. She singlehandedly took care of her children, did the household chores and run the school as well. I could hear her pray for the strength to do her daily chores, every night and yet I could only do a diminutive part to help her in every way.
I blow the glass particles off the photo frame and keep it on the table. I pick up each broken piece of glass, one by one, so as if recollecting the broken fragments of my past. I put the shattered pieces in the disposable back, bracing myself for the forthcoming life. I am what my mother has invested in me. I am ready for the coming world, knowing that the hand of my mother is on my back.
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