Personal Narrative: A Humorous Day

It’s funny. I don’t remember the day you were born, or the day you came home from the hospital; but I do not remember a time or event in my life in which you and I were apart. You have always been there; like an annoying rashes we earned from playing outside in the sugar cane fields of Louisiana, you were always there. Every minute spent outside, playing video games, every jump shot taken, and every fist fight with the neighborhood bullies I was involved my right hand man, you. We were inseparable; if someone saw one of us, they saw both of us, as if we were adjoined at the hip and were given one name, “Daniel and Jason.” It was always “Has anybody seen….”, or “We can’t start until Daniel and Jason gets here. If life was a ball, or exclusive …show more content…
You were my first “best friend”, and I yours; we were raised that way. “One day we will all be gone, and all you going to have left is your brother”, Mom would tell us after every fight with each other, and after every confrontation we had in our economically challenging community. By this time you were the main agitator of our skirmishes that ended with carpet burns similar to an NFL player’s after playing a championship game on artificial turf. “Jason, why are you constantly picking fights with your brother?”, I remember her asking your one day in an attempt to get to the bottom of another daily tussle. Your response, “Because it’s the most funnest thing in the world!!”, was the source of my rage as a proceeded to pummel you once more; the searing pain from Mom’s belt serving as the resolution her words could not …show more content…
The exhilaration of experiencing something new and exciting filled my spirit as we shot around an empty Crisler Arena. I was on my unofficial visit to the University of Michigan as a prized recruit out of the state of Texas, and I was enjoying it. I was having the time of my life and you, my right hand man, was right there with me. Heavy breathing and loud squeaks from our sneakers resonated in the hollow dome. “Stop fouling!!” I exclaimed as I shoved you off me to create space to shoot my jump shot. This was years after watching you win “Mr. Biddy, and I was had just been named to my second All-State steam and was a shoe-in to make the prestigious McDonald’s game. If this was an episode of Stars Wars, I was Yoda now, and you were a young Luke Skywalker, waiting for me to give you my latest lesson. “I thought I banned yall from playing one-one-one years ago?” my father asked rhetorically reminding us that we limited to only participating in shooting drills with each other. “We aren’t going to fight again. We are too old for that now Pops”, you stated disappointingly as the game ended