Revision

I chose my Personal Narrative paper that I wrote during the first semester. I chose to revise this paper because after looking over everything that I have written this year I felt like this one held the most potential for change. I thought that since I wrote this paper so early on there would be a good amount of places where revision was needed. I felt like I have learned a significant amount about writing since I wrote this paper and there could be polishing done to make the paper stronger. As I was editing this paper I decided to focus on organization and sentence fluency. I felt like I could add detail and stronger transition sentences. I also found a few places in the paper where the organization or word choice was awkward. I added strong words in replace of weak wording. I also added a few sentences which helped improve the organization of the paper and I added detail where needed. My revision of this paper is polished and includes the good qualities of writing which I have learned throughout this year and was revised using my improved writing skills. 

note: I had changed the conjunction and punctuation issues which had been brought to my attention right after I had gotten feedback for the paper. 

August 14^h, 2016, 11 a.m., I open my heavy eyes, stretch, and reluctantly roll out of bed, stepping onto the unwelcoming floor to plug in my phone, which has completely been drained of life. I take a deep breath and smile, taking in all of the fun from last night. The night before was a night full of dancing, loud music, warm chocolate chip cookies, buttery movie theater popcorn, and special times spent with a friend who is soon embarking on a new journey and moving to Germany. I bounce back to the present, letting out a yawn and turning on my phone only to realize that I have a number of missed calls and texts from various family members.

            Right away I know something is wrong and in the back of my mind, I know exactly what has happened. I can feel the blood in my veins rush, and my heart starts to race up. I nervously call my mom back. She picks up the phone right away and gently tells me that our house has flooded and that she had left last night while the water was seeping in through the doors. I become silent and all I can think about is how she warned me the night before that it may not have been the best idea to go to a friend’s house when all of this mayhem was happening to people around us. She reassures me that everything is going to be okay, but that she may not be able to get me for a couple of days because all of the roads are submerged under water. As the information drips into my brain, I register that I am very fortunate to be in a sheltered, dry place. I tell her to be safe and I click the red end call button on my phone, still in shock, and return to my curious friend.

              Yes, this is where it all starts, and yes, my mom is able to retrieve me the following day, but that is not the point because the point is how people, more specifically my family, dealt with these hardships, and how we learned to continue to carry on. So, the story unfolds: a few endless days pass since this unreal nightmare has turned into an unbearable truth when my mom, my brother, and I, along with some friends, head to my house, stepping inside what was once a dry, comforting place of refuge and is now a ruined, wet disaster. My eyes fill with tears as I amble into my bedroom. My room appears to stand Exactly how I had left it only a few nights ago, but now my books are swollen with water, strewn across my warped floorboards, and my favorite shoes are filled with murky, pungent flood water, along with everything else that once gave my room its charm. My whole body is petrified and I can’t even start to imagine how things will ever be the same. But then I look around and I see all of my friends and family members who traveled here to help us, and my heart is filled with gratitude because I know that we are not alone. The adults begin by taking furniture and smelly, soaked belongings to the curb. Some of us sort through heavy, water-soaked clothing and pull apart bleeding pictures that once told a story. Our feet forcefully kick through soft walls, surrendering all of the tension that has formed inside of our tired bodies. Extra-large black garbage bags begin to overflow one after another, stuffed with tiny puzzle pieces of my life. As these bags begin to crowd the front lawn of my house I imagine them being propelled into the landfill abounding with lost pieces from other’s lives. I can’t help but feel a black hole of emptiness. A home that only a couple days ago was a warm, organized place, is now a house- a house that does not at all feel like a home.

           After a few days of productive, challenging, work we can look into the house and can see through the walls that we kicked through, I feel a rush of sadness because what used to be my perfect home is now a few concrete slabs and wooden stakes. All of my life feels scattered just like all of the objects that were once in order, and now have no home. But I am the type of person who believes that we can find the good in all things and this little stem of hope inside of me blooms at just the right moment. Right when my family is feeling the saddest and most depressed, we find the wedding dress. My mom’s beautiful white, floral, perfectly simple wedding dress. It is in a pile of her other various garments and has a ring of dirty water around the bottom. At first, we look at it and gasp, our minds scrolling through once upon a time heartfelt memories. But my mom doesn’t get upset; she takes it outside and hangs it out to dry. Deep inside I know that this probably hurt her a little, but she hid it under a deceiving smile, something that she’s mastered by now. This wedding dress represents a turning point in her life, even if it may not have worked out in the long run.

             A few days later, I am scrolling through my Facebook feed, my heart breaking as I step into the shoes of all of the suffering people that appear on my screen when I see a picture that my mom has uploaded. It is of her standing in the midst of our molding, damaged possessions, in her stained wedding dress, holding my giant artificial red poppy, which once towered in the corner of my room. She looks pretty in a simple kind if way. She is looking down at the ground with a slight grin appearing on her face and the back of the wedding dress spreads evenly over our red, white, and blue sofa cushions. The bright red poppy in her hands stands out against the white of the dress. A mound of furniture is taking up space behind her, and her unharmed CRV is parked in the driveway. At first, I keep scrolling, not thinking much of the picture because my mom does silly things like this all of the time. But then it hits me; as I stare at the picture, I instantly have high spirits, if my mom could create beauty and be at peace with such chaos, then so could I.

           Many people may see this picture as a joke, or something that is not too serious. But that is not how I see it at all. I see it as my mom showing that even when everything is going wrong, she can bring back good memories and honor what once made our hearts joyful. This picture became very popular among my mom’s friends and even was included in a newspaper in Germany. People consider her brave and able to move forward, even when she is going through adversity, and this inspired them, just as it has inspired me. This tragedy has created an entire void of uncertainty for me, and I feel as if maybe, just maybe this picture gives me clarity. I can see that I have many parts of my life that need to be repaired and put back together. Also, I have parts that are still standing, a little broken, but standing and those things that are still standing can help me get through this, just like my mom is still standing and taking in all that has shaped us and meanwhile we are all still being shaped by what we choose to make of what has affected us.

             The stained wedding dress represents my life right now, it is not perfect and it has a noticeable stain over it, but it is still beautiful and still contains many parts to smile over, and even though many materials are now gone, all of the memories are still there, and in a way they have become clearer than ever before. The empty place that these objects have left has made me appreciate them in a special way. I now know that I will be able to hold close all of my heartwarming flashbacks that were created in my house, but I also know that new stories will be create, and I will appreciate them as they will bring new meaning to the next chapter of my life.