|
Essay
||
Reflection
Queen Marie Antoinette
The day she was born, it was just my dad and I at home, while my mom was at the hospital. "Maria, you know you're going to be a big sister now, right?" I heard my dad say.
"I know," I replied. "Can we go to the hospital yet?" Over and over again I asked the same question. I was so eager to visit my newborn sister, who my parents named Marie Antoinette. For five years, I was an only child, and now everything was changed.
My dad and I drove over to the Naval hospital nearby to see my mom and the baby. When we walked in, my dad and I had to wear blue scrubs, like the ones that doctors wear. I asked my dad why we had to wear "those big things," and he replied, "It's to protect the baby."
I didn't understand what that meant, but I said "Oh," anyway. We walked into the room where my mom was staying at and sat down on one of the chairs parallel to her bed. The baby's doctor then asked me,
"Would you like to hold your sister?"
"Sure," I told her, and the doctor carried my sister to me. "Maria, hold still. I'm gonna take a picture of you two," my dad told me. When I looked down at my sister's face, I was disgusted at the way she looked. Her face was red and scrunched up like a dried-up tomato. At the time though, I thought she looked like a rat. Of course, she didn't end up looking like that forever.
Fast forward about a year. By then, my sister had a nickname; Net-Net. She was named that way, because of the "net" of Marie Antoinette. I was about six at the time, and she was one. She used to get all the attention (and still does) from both of my parents, especially my mom. I was so jealous of her that I would show off to my mom and dad that I knew how to do things I had never done before, all by myself. For example, I showed thhem that I could finally take a shower on my own, and pick out my own clothes to wear from my closet. For me, it seemed like a big accomplishment.
One time, I got in trouble with my mom about something I don't even remember anymore. I was angry that Net-Net never got in trouble about anything, and decided to get even. I carried Net-Net into my bedroom, and got a pen. I wrote her name, "Marie Antoinette," on her forehead. At the age fo six, that was what I called "revenge"' it didn't change anything, though. Luckily, I didn't get in trouble. When my mom saw it, she asked my why I had written that on her head, and I lied, "It's so everyone will know her name." Even now, I don't understand why she never gets in serious trouble with my parents; she's almost ten.
Four years ago, we moved to San Diego. My sister started school as a kindergartener. Within a couple of weeks, she was promoted to the first grade. That got me really mad because time and time again, my parents would brag to their friends about her (they still do). "Alam mo ba, nag-skip siya ng isang grade. Nasa kindergarten lang siya ng isang linggo, 'tapos na promote siya sa first grade," were the exact words they'd say in Tagalog. Translated, that meant she skipped a grade.
Then, their friends would reply, "Ay, matalino talaga siya!"; which meant "Wow, she's so smart!" It thought to myself, So what? It's only first grade. You don't need to be THAT smart to skip kindergarten. To this day, whenever my parents bring up the fact that she got into first grade with ease, I always shiver with disgust (not really).
Now she's grown up to be a bright, but quirky kid. Out of nowhere, she'll just start laughing, and no one can figure out why or what she's laughing at. Other times, you'll hear her stomping her feet as she's trudgin up the stairs, after she's done arguing with me. I've always told her "Don't ever talk to me again," after one of our heated arguments, but we can never last a couple of minutes without talking to each other (except for when we're in different places). Since she's my only sibling and vice versa, we've gotten really close over the years. The relationship with me and my sister is one that goes from one extreme to the next. At one time, we're laughing so much that it becomes hard to breathe, and the next, we're kicking, punching, and screaming at one another, until one of us starts laughing again. By then, one of my parents yells from downstairs, "What's going on up there?" And guess who gets in trouble then? You guessed it, me.
Reflection
A biographical narrative is a nonfiction account of someone, including anecdotes (which are short, true stories) and concrete details. When I was assigned to write one, I had no idea as to who I should write about, but finally decided to write about my sister because she was someone that I knew for so long and shared so many experiences with. It was hard to think of specific anecdotes to add into the narrative, because there were just too many things that have happened between me and my sister. Finally, I settled on a few anecdotes, such as me being jealous of my sister (the newborn baby) at times, and getting annoyed with my parents because they kept bragging about her, and never said anything important about me to their friends. Fortunately, I�ve gotten over that childish stage, and can care less whenever my parents tell stories of my sister to their friends. While writing this narrative, I came up with so many ideas to add. I found this assignment much more enjoyable to write than others, because writing about myself and someone I am close to seemed more interesting to me, and of course easier to write about.
Essay
||
Reflection
|
