Summer Of 1864-Personal Narrative

It was the summer of 1864. I was nineteen years old. I was living on a farm, in Texas, just on the border of mexico. That was such a beautiful time of year. The golden wheat fields flourished and lilacs painted the meadows a shade of bright periwinkle. But that summer will haunt me for the rest of my life. I tossed and turned one night, gloomy and sleepless. I peered out my window to the barn. The creaky white picket fence, surrounding the fields had unlatched in the night, leaving an endless banging to summon me outside. A warm breeze met my face and the moon appeared a soft blue, illuminating the rusty weathervane. I walked across the dirt trail and sleepily closed the eroded latch of the gate. I hopped over the fence to find myself opening …show more content…
Pappy let me drive her out to town on a dull summer day. I cruised down the old path to my great grandma's house to take a nice visit. I got out of the vehicle and saw her in the yard with her soft silvery hair blowing blissfully in the wind. She began twitching violently and then fell to her knees, and I heard her bones shatter. She then lie there still, almost peaceful. Her face was a pale white. She was still alive. She looked at me and dragged her calusy dry hand down my cheek wiping away my tears. She slowly moved her crusty, swollen lips, “take care of your ol’ man.” I looked at her soft brown eyes and watched the life putter out of them. All my integrity was gone, swept from out under my feet. There was nothing I could do now. In my nineteen years of life, I had not once gone more than five miles away from that small farm. Now I was completely out of my element. I was so far away from where I grew up, and oh how I missed the fresh taste of the warm unpasteurized milk trickling down the deep temple on my chin. Suddenly something caught my attention. I was on the edge of the woods. The waning light and noise of night life from a small town bustled in the