Prompt #5: Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, which marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.
Please help me with my essay. Thank you for paying interest in my essay. I will appreciate it.
There's no need to check for grammar errors, I just want comments on my coherence, cohesion, flow and ideas. I'm willing to receive any kind of criticism. Thank you.
Five. My mother was driving me home on her antique scooter. Four. Breeze filled in the air as I could ever clearly remember. Three. Faintly, a roaring engine approached from behind. Two. On the left, the roaring magnified and tore air into pieces fiercely stabbing onto every inch of flesh. One. Unstoppable oscillation: the scooter did not seem to hold on. Zero... Metallic clashing, tire squealing and utter silence.
Before I understood what had happened, before I could see the license plate of that hit-and-run motorcycle, and before gravity could seize my opportunity, my body unconsciously embraced mom, tightly as it possibly could. However, gravity won the tug-of-war against me. We fell onto the street, harshly. Everything immersed in echoes and blurs. I was left in unimaginable bewilderment: "Why us?" - "Why did this happen to us?" - "No!" - indignation popped up in my mind before the smell of asphalt woke me up.
Hardly had I been taken back to reality that adrenaline began to fuel me with throbbing heart, shaking hands, and trembling voice. Immediately, I turned to mom. I was speechless. Wounds bleeding on her face, on her nose, on her knee... A huge cut ran across her left foot. Her face turned pale with fear: she was dumbfounded. I looked vainly and repeatedly asked if she was okay, forgetting that my knee also flooded with blood and pain. I was never frightened by blood except for this time. I thought I could lose mom in any moments. Without luck and god's protection, mom could have... No, I must not thought about it.
Years bought up by mom, never have I care for her. When she struggled with osteoarthritis while cleaning the floor, I did notice but did not offer a helping hand. When she told me to wash my clothes, I did listen but did tell her it was her business. Never have I appreciate the moments we were together. Only when my mother lay under fatal shears did I realize how much she meant to me and how ungratefully I treat her as her only child.
The day after the accident, I watched her intently as if I would not have had another chance to see her in real life. I offered to share the household chores. I would clean the dishes, wash my dirty clothes and sometimes prepare breakfast for the family. My duty at home had never been that much in my 18 years. And I am happy about that. I was ready to take the responsibility, to lift the pressure away from my mother, to be the breadwinner, and to grow into maturity while my parents would reach old-age and oblivion.
Days after the accident, I was still nervous whenever my mother rode her scooter out. Insisting on driving her, I assured myself not to let that accident happen again: I must not let her suffer from injuries and traumas for just one more time. I felt the great obligation to ensure her safety. On the way to grocery store, I felt as if her hero when she held my belly and said: "Thank you, my dear. You have finally become my gentleman.". Simple as it might seem, her gratitude meant so much to me: it marked my transition from an apathetic child to a caring and reliable man.
Why did that accident happen to us instead of somebody else? Nobody knows. Thus, I am now more beware of everyday events as everything can happen for no reason. Through my accident, I am not scared of new problems and difficulties in life. Although I have not completely transformed into adulthood, I am ready to learn lessons from adversities to become more well-rounded and mature.
Please help me with my essay. Thank you for paying interest in my essay. I will appreciate it.
There's no need to check for grammar errors, I just want comments on my coherence, cohesion, flow and ideas. I'm willing to receive any kind of criticism. Thank you.
WHY US?
Five. My mother was driving me home on her antique scooter. Four. Breeze filled in the air as I could ever clearly remember. Three. Faintly, a roaring engine approached from behind. Two. On the left, the roaring magnified and tore air into pieces fiercely stabbing onto every inch of flesh. One. Unstoppable oscillation: the scooter did not seem to hold on. Zero... Metallic clashing, tire squealing and utter silence.
Before I understood what had happened, before I could see the license plate of that hit-and-run motorcycle, and before gravity could seize my opportunity, my body unconsciously embraced mom, tightly as it possibly could. However, gravity won the tug-of-war against me. We fell onto the street, harshly. Everything immersed in echoes and blurs. I was left in unimaginable bewilderment: "Why us?" - "Why did this happen to us?" - "No!" - indignation popped up in my mind before the smell of asphalt woke me up.
Hardly had I been taken back to reality that adrenaline began to fuel me with throbbing heart, shaking hands, and trembling voice. Immediately, I turned to mom. I was speechless. Wounds bleeding on her face, on her nose, on her knee... A huge cut ran across her left foot. Her face turned pale with fear: she was dumbfounded. I looked vainly and repeatedly asked if she was okay, forgetting that my knee also flooded with blood and pain. I was never frightened by blood except for this time. I thought I could lose mom in any moments. Without luck and god's protection, mom could have... No, I must not thought about it.
Years bought up by mom, never have I care for her. When she struggled with osteoarthritis while cleaning the floor, I did notice but did not offer a helping hand. When she told me to wash my clothes, I did listen but did tell her it was her business. Never have I appreciate the moments we were together. Only when my mother lay under fatal shears did I realize how much she meant to me and how ungratefully I treat her as her only child.
The day after the accident, I watched her intently as if I would not have had another chance to see her in real life. I offered to share the household chores. I would clean the dishes, wash my dirty clothes and sometimes prepare breakfast for the family. My duty at home had never been that much in my 18 years. And I am happy about that. I was ready to take the responsibility, to lift the pressure away from my mother, to be the breadwinner, and to grow into maturity while my parents would reach old-age and oblivion.
Days after the accident, I was still nervous whenever my mother rode her scooter out. Insisting on driving her, I assured myself not to let that accident happen again: I must not let her suffer from injuries and traumas for just one more time. I felt the great obligation to ensure her safety. On the way to grocery store, I felt as if her hero when she held my belly and said: "Thank you, my dear. You have finally become my gentleman.". Simple as it might seem, her gratitude meant so much to me: it marked my transition from an apathetic child to a caring and reliable man.
Why did that accident happen to us instead of somebody else? Nobody knows. Thus, I am now more beware of everyday events as everything can happen for no reason. Through my accident, I am not scared of new problems and difficulties in life. Although I have not completely transformed into adulthood, I am ready to learn lessons from adversities to become more well-rounded and mature.