My Childhood Memories Essay

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    that one familiar smell can bring back so many memories? The smell that can bring me back to my past and fill my heart with joy from the memories. The biggest memory that peppermint brings back for me is my Grandma. My Grandma was an amazing woman, she always wore a certain perfume and still to this day I am not entirely sure what the perfume was but it had some type of peppermint fragrance to it. My Grandmother and I used to do everything together, whenever I walked into the house to sit and visit with her I would smell that hint of peppermint and know she was there even before I saw her smiling face. As a child I would spend a lot of time with my grandparents, walking into the house I would first hear the sound of the TV blaring in the next room because they couldn’t hear well then I would get that sudden smell of peppermint and just smile. I would walk into the next room where my Grandmother was sitting in her hospital bed and sit next to her and…

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    What is a Mother? Before I begin discussing my early memories and definition of a mother, I feel it necessary to write a brief social location. I grew up in a rather small bilingual city in the east coast of Canada. As a child, as far as I could understand my parents had sufficient incomes, there was always ample food for my brother and me, and although time allowed to play video games was limited, we had the luxury to own a Nintendo. My family and a large number of French speaking families in…

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    spreading a rich flavor of the sun, cherry, strawberries and grapes in the wind. The dogs were barking incessantly, they knew that we had arrived. As soon as we entered the yard, my grandmother welcomed us with warm hugs and kisses, while my grandfather was waiting humbly for his turn… That's the picture I saw every single Saturday of my life. That's how I will describe my childhood, and that's how I want my future kids to describe their childhood someday. For me, Saturday's had a more…

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    colorful carpet listening to my pre-kindergarten teacher, who just happened to be a friend of the family, reading The Berenstain Bears was one of my first memories of learning to read. She would slowly read word-for-word and demonstration what she was reading, and of course show each picture she came across. Once she finished reading to us, now we sit at our color orientated tables learning the alphabet and numbers. Singing our, a, b, c 's, and our one, two, threes, while subtle music plays in…

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    I only have vague memories of a united family. I was five when my family life came crashing down; only it didn’t fall on me, it fell on my mother. The only memories I have of the divorce are not of a courtroom, but of my loving father being kicked out of the house he created. It was not until I was around seven that I learned my mother left my dad just because she was bored. The first time I spent with my dad after the divorce was ironically as soon as he was kicked out. We didn’t even…

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    able to write about my early childhood memories of my first interest for computers has allowed me to become a stronger writer. The memories were vivid in my mind, but I had yet to put it all into words. Instead of letting those memories fade, the essay, “Computer Science: My First Spark”, allowed me to elaborate on how I chose my major. Describing this memory was very nostalgic and brought back positive memories. This paper sharpened my skills relating to reflecting on my experiences,…

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    I was born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona until the age of seven. By the time I was turning eight, my Mother had moved me and my older brother Dave to the reservation. We moved to Sacaton, Arizona (on the Gila River Indian Community Reservation). We lived in a house on the last street called Wihog St. It was a white three bedroom, one bathroom, and floor had pale white tiles in all the rooms. Growing up in that house on held the best memories of childhood life In the front yard there…

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    How do you remember your childhood friends? Whenever I think of my childhood friends, I remember all the amazing memories we had; being in control of our neighborhood, making our own treehouse, killing a few snakes, rolling a wagon around like we were cool, and just having the time of our lives. We did not care what people thought of us and we all encouraged one another to be ourselves, not like one another. Maybe we did not say that, but it was an unspoken thing; we were not just those friends…

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    I read an article recently about how snow absorbs sound waves and while reading it transported me back to memories of snow in my childhood and the complete blankness of sound that existed. It was as if the snow had removed my senses because everywhere I looked I saw white, every surface I touched was cold, and the only sound I heard was myself. Playing in the snow would always start out a noisy affair. Snowmen and their snowball wars would rise out of the childhood playfulness of my brother and…

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    The sweet pumpkin pie, the tart apple pie, and of course, the rich, chocolate ice-cream topped off the amazing meal. I glanced from face to face, privately thanking God for each family member. There were smiles everywhere, from my brother's mischievous grin, to my grandmother's heartwarming smile. I looked around the room at the decorations I had helped my mother put up. Pictures of pumpkins, still up from last Halloween, hung next to Christmas wreathes and holly. In the center of the…

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