For awhile, I contemplated the meaning of suffering and tried to find something in my life that went along with the aspect of what one would consider suffering. Then, I realized that I did not have to do that because what I consider personal suffering may not be the same as someone else. I pondered on what to write about, what would catch your attention the most, or what would help you relate to me because that is what the best writing does. What should I write about, I asked myself. Should I write about the time my mom kicked me out of the house, or growing up in poverty and living in my mom’s car, no, how about the time I killed my aunt’s goldfish by feeding it pepper because she left the pepper next to the fish food. That was right there
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It is 5:42 a.m.. All I can I hear is my mother screaming. I know that she is in pain, but I cannot help my excitement. My sibling is coming. I see the faces of most of my family members and there is a range of emotions throughout the waiting room. All of sudden, the only thing I hear is silence. Then, I hear something coming from my mother’s hospital room, not the screams of newborn baby but something deeper, more intense, something that I had never heard before. My mother is crying, no, she is sobbing, and my six year old mind cannot understand why. I look around the waiting room once again, and now everybody has a look of sorrow and despair. I do not understand why mother is crying and why my family members look so despondent. The doctor comes into the waiting room and I jump for joy, still not understanding what is going on. I rush to the doctor so I could hold her first. My sibling. My little sister. The doctor hands her to me and my life changed forever. I am holding her and looking around, and I am slightly upset because the way my family members are looking at me, why are they not happy like I am? Why are they looking at me like that? I look down at the bundle in my arms, I see peach flesh with a pinkish glow and a small tuft of ebony hair. I am so excited until I realize. Her chest is not moving, she is not moving, her eyes are not opening, she is not making any noise and that is when everything starts to make
It is 5:42 a.m.. All I can I hear is my mother screaming. I know that she is in pain, but I cannot help my excitement. My sibling is coming. I see the faces of most of my family members and there is a range of emotions throughout the waiting room. All of sudden, the only thing I hear is silence. Then, I hear something coming from my mother’s hospital room, not the screams of newborn baby but something deeper, more intense, something that I had never heard before. My mother is crying, no, she is sobbing, and my six year old mind cannot understand why. I look around the waiting room once again, and now everybody has a look of sorrow and despair. I do not understand why mother is crying and why my family members look so despondent. The doctor comes into the waiting room and I jump for joy, still not understanding what is going on. I rush to the doctor so I could hold her first. My sibling. My little sister. The doctor hands her to me and my life changed forever. I am holding her and looking around, and I am slightly upset because the way my family members are looking at me, why are they not happy like I am? Why are they looking at me like that? I look down at the bundle in my arms, I see peach flesh with a pinkish glow and a small tuft of ebony hair. I am so excited until I realize. Her chest is not moving, she is not moving, her eyes are not opening, she is not making any noise and that is when everything starts to make