Essay about My Dad Calls Down The Hall

1111 Words Nov 16th, 2015 null Page
“Alexa”, my Dad calls down the hall. My room fills with the sound of his loud bellow. After I hear this I notice the sweet, sugary smell that is being omitted from the kitchen downstairs. Both of these things draw me out of bed and down to the dining room where my breakfast awaits me. Every Sunday it’s exactly the same. We have glazed donuts made by my mother, ready for me and the rest of the family to eat at seven. It’s been this way since I was born, and long before that. My Sunday is unlike any other. My family has very specific traditions that go along with our Sundays. These traditions separate my family from most, because most families don’t have weekly rituals that they abide by; some don’t even spend a whole day together once a week. People today get so busy with what society expects of them, like working every day so that they have the money to buy the newest popular item on the market or going out and having the night of your life, every night that they forget to spend time with the most important people in their lives, their families. Every Sunday morning, after my habitual breakfast, of course, I start to pick through the clothes in my closet to find the outfit that will fit the part for whatever role I choose to fulfill on any particular Sunday, whether that be a junior church instructor, the head of the nursery staff, or a member of the congregation. Then I start to put on my make up that is subtle enough so that I look like the…

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