My Hiraeth . Draft #2Monique L Williams
2/9/2017 English 100 As I walked to the tree I always sat under after school I noticed how different I felt today. My smile seemed forced and my body language was off rhythm. I inhaled deeply, collecting irregular amounts of air. The smell of fresh cut grass seemed to calm me down, but still my mind was racing. Even as a young child I had unstable emotions that seemed to show up at times when there was conflicts occurring and I needed to be emotionally stable to handle my situations. Upon arriving under the tree without realizing I was sitting on the ground, gripping dirt in my hands, allowing the dirt to slide between my fingers and into my fingertips.I felt like I was losing control of what I was doing, like my soul was pulling away from my body. I had been outside for what seemed like seconds but really it's been hours. Still sitting on the ground wrestling with myself to get up.Before I could continue this war within myself. I heard footsteps slowing approaching me. I knew exactly who it was just by listening to tempo of the footsteps. It was my father approaching me calmly. My father appearance snapped me back to reality. It seem that every time I went through these phases, my father was the only one that could help me. He stared down at me with worried eyes but with a smile that even I couldn’t understand. He tried his best to assimilate as nothing was wrong, as if it was normal for a 10 year old to be digging into dirt and hot tears streaming down her face. Yet, I knew inside he felt confused and helpless to all the problems that were falling upon him. I knew the weight he had on his back was pinning him to the ground even more so than uncontrolled demons making me lose grip of myself. My thoughts were interrupted by my father’s low soft voice as he spoke “Monique Bare truth.” The words repeated in my mind over and over again. Bare truth. Those two words alone gave me a sense of calmness. What it meant for me is honesty. My father would listen to me, listen to my side of the story and he understood my feelings. He told me stories about himself growing up and how it helped shape the person he became. Not secrets, just us, talking for long extended times. It’s like a game really. A game that could only be played by us. It’s the only game I enjoyed playing.Bare truth. My father repeated “ Bare truth. Monique.” I instantly realize I’ve zoned out and look up at my father, who still has a smile on his face. I reply “ Sure. we don’t have secrets between us.” My father usually did not show emotions, but in that moment I saw the relief in his eyes. He answers “Let’s go to the place.” The place is special to us. It’s a little area at the waterfront where we sit at the edge of the wall and look down into the water. At times we fish. At other times we just threw rocks into the water, however there was always long conversations. Upon arrival to the place, I'm calm. I don't want to discuss my previous behavior out of embarrassment for feeling how I felt and being I'm tired physically and emotionally. My father is a understanding man. We just relax in a silence, a comfortable silence. Going to school never felt like a choir, yet it saddened me having to be apart from my baby brother. He really hated when I left, he would cry, scream, and always tried to follow me.He feared staying alone and that alone could make me melt like butter. My mom was a strict woman however so I would never test her patience. My mother would wake up early morning to make breakfast while my dad was making lunches for us to take for school. My mother was a serious lady. We had 3 rules each morning that we followed. First brush your teeth and wash your face. Second dress to impress from your head to your toes. Third don’t be late under any circumstances. After all she was a strict lady. I repeat to myself every morning “ do not upset her, she loves you Monique.” I ate breakfast and got dressed as I didn't every morning. My father would be waiting outside in the car for me, just coming from dropping my older siblings off at school. The car ride was simple but meaningful to me. As we begin our journey to William Penn Elementary School my father would hold my hand the whole ride. I wasn’t old enough to sit in the front seat of the car. My father dropped me off telling me my brother, Michael, would be picking me up today. My day spent in school felt endless, yet once I saw my brother waiting outside the parking lot, I knew the wait was well worth it. Michael “ Come, now beaut, it's time to go home” I would be so excited to go home. My parents would be at work soon after we went to school. So Daquan, my baby brother had daycare. I answer my brother “ I’m coming, Michael. As we leave the building Michael would ask me how my day has been and tell me Dominique, my sister would be picking Daquan up from dare care. I would always give the same answer “good. Thank you for asking.” It wasn’t the perfect life I had with my father but it was something that I had a need for even if it was only for a short period of my life. My mother had been up most of the night with my father silently arguing. I have no clue what the disagreement was but I wish it never happened. Morning came just like any other day my mom made breakfast but this time she made us carry it with us to school. She had long black hair, chocolate brown skin, deep brown eyes filled with so much emotion and always dressed herself in long tight dresses. There was no doubt my mother’s a beautiful woman. As I turned to my father, he was already walking through the door before I could run to him, my mother grabbed me by the arm yanking me into her embrace forcing me into the car. When I settled into the car, I noticed my older siblings were in the car. The worried look in their eyes gave me an uneasy feeling that I couldn’t shake. My mom began driving down Highland ave. There was unusual traffic for this time of the day. My mom parked the car, told us to wait in the car until she came back from talking to the crossing guard. I knew I shouldn’t have got out the car however I was curious. At that moment my mother became only a fragment of the women she us to be. There I saw my father body, it looked cold and soulless. I saw the cops handcuffing the murder of my father, he was trying to apologize but at that time I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to hear him. My focus was on my broken mother. My mom was emotionlessly walking up and down the street. I couldn’t understand why? I couldn’t understand why my mother was so hurt until it was too late. Although my mother was hurt I shouldn’t have to be alone. I go into shock, I'm now completely gone at that moment my mind is blank. It was cold. The floor was dirty for some reason. Why did I enjoy being in a cold dirty room? It was dark somehow I looked straight into the void. It was cold. The room was so cold,why did i enjoy being surrounded by darkness. I felt safe. I went down two floors to get to the place. But my mind was always at ease when I walked into this cold dirty room and layed on the floor. My hands sat firmly on my stomach while my legs bend in tightly against my hands that sat firmly on my stomach.I kept talking but no response. It was cold. I still cared although. I cared because this place made me feel cared for. It was cold. My body was warm. Was I not clean? Did I not have friends? Wait my friend is here. This place is my friend. All I know is that I was lost. I always lost , it felt like. My sister died before I was even born. I lost my brother who was a twin. I lost myself even. My life is tragic. I hope I never lose my hope,pride,mind and spirit. “Monique!” I hear a faint call almost a whisper. “Monique!” I hear it again. What is that? I think to myself. “Beaut!” I'm snapped back to reality. Michaels voice is confused and slightly irritated. He looks at me with pleading else desperate even. “Get in the car” his voice cracks slightly. I don't say anything, I simple obey. What you witnessed is me, losing control of myself. Me. Allowing those emotions to get the best of me. Worst times I tell you. I felt selfish. I am selfish. Who knows how long Michael was trying to get me out of that storm. That storm I always found myself in. That storm I call my friend. People don't really understand what it’s like to feel constantly feel pain each day that goes by. To continuously be reminded of the life that never was. To be emotionally damaged beyond repair but I do. I understand what seeing darkness is. What living in darkness does to a person. I understand contaminated glory. I understand contaminated glory all but too well. I remember the day I was so upset at my mother and father for arguing. It wasn't simply because they were arguing, it was because their argument was pointless. After a long day of learning I expect to come home, rest than play with my baby brother, however that was completely demolished by the foolishness my parents indulged in. I hated to see them argue. Gosh I hated it so much. I couldn't allow myself to watch helplessly, despairingly so I did what I thought was best. I backed myself out the door I had previously walked through. My mind began spinning uncontrollably causing me to lose focus on my surroundings. I would have realized my brother Michael standing close by watching from a distance. My vision began to blur as hot tears roll continuously down my cheeks in a rhythmic way. My body obviously familiar with my actions giving my mind no argument against my body. How could I let two people affect me in such a way I'm left crying for hours under a tree with dirt seeping through my fingers and lingering on my fingertips. I love my father with so much intensity that my heart is literally in my hand being held out to him. My mom yelling at him caused me to react protectively and weakly being as she's partially to blame for my father's sudden uncontrollable death. I didn't realize it before so I'd still wait each day expecting him to walk through the front door, smiling that smile he always smiles telling me how his day was and yelling “Mona come here let's go to the place.” As much as I want that to be my reality. It isn't. Gosh it’s so far off from my reality.
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Monique L Williams
2/9/2017 English 100 * caution before reading this is complete b/s. As I walked to the tree I always sat under after school I noticed how different I felt today. My smile seemed forced and my body language was off. I knew myself and I knew I was upset. Even as a young child I had unstable emotions that seemed to show at the wrong times. Upon arriving under the tree without realizing I was sitting on the ground gripping dirt into my hands, allowing the dirt to slide between my fingers and into my fingertips. I felt so dirty however I continued with my actions. After about 5 minutes I heard footsteps slowing approaching me. I knew exactly who it was just by listening to these footsteps. My father finally made it to me, looking down at me with a smile that even I couldn’t understand. I’m about 10 years old, I’m wearing my brand-new outfit that he just brought but I’m sitting in a pile of dirt. My thoughts were interrupted by my father’s low soft voice as he spoke “Monique why aren’t you inside? You usually come inside to change before getting messing.” All I could manage to say was “Hello father.” I loved to go to school everyday but my mornings weren’t always the greatest. My baby brother really hated when I left, he would cry, scream, kick and even try to walk. This effected me because I knew he felt alone without me and my other siblings but we had no choice in the matter. My mom would wake up early morning to make breakfast while my dad was making lunches for us to take for school. My mother was a serious lady. We had 3 rules each morning that we followed. First brush your teeth and wash your face. Second dress to impress from your head to your toes. Third don’t be late under any circumstances. After I ate breakfast and got dressed my father would be waiting outside in the car for me, just coming from dropping my older siblings off at school. The car ride was simple but meaningful to me. As we begin our journey to William Penn Elementary School my father would hold my hand the whole ride. I wasn’t old enough sit in the front of the car to make me feel safe that way his way. The school day was long but before I knew it my brother would pick me up from school. Michael “ Come, now booboo-bear, its time to go home” I would be so excited to go home. My parents would be at work soon after we went to school. I answer my bother “ I’m coming, Michael. As we leave the building Michael would ask me how my day has been and I would always give the same answer “good. Thank you for asking.” It wasn’t the perfect life I had with my father but it was something that I longed for even if it was only for a short period of my life. My mother had been up most of the night with my father silently arguing. I have no clue what the disagreement was but I wish it never happened. Morning came just like any other day my mom made breakfast but this time she made us carry it with us to school. She had long black hair in her head and long tight dress on. There is no doubt my mother’s a beautiful woman. As I turned to my fathers he was already walking through the door before I could run to him, my mother grabbed me by the arm yanking me into her embrace forcing me into the car. When I settled into the car I noticed my older siblings were in the car. The worried look in their eyes gave me an uneasy feeling that I couldn’t shake. My mom begin driving down Highland ave. it was traffic which was unusual for this time of the day. My mom told us to wait in the car until she came back from talking to the crossing guard. I knew I shouldn’t have got out the car however I was curious. When I got to my mom she was no longer my mother only a fragment of the women she us to be. Seeing my father in the shape I seen him as I watched cops handcuffing the truck driving that (I’m sorry) murdered my father I begin to lose my sanity. My mom was emotionlessly walking up and down the street. I couldn’t understand why? I couldn’t understand why my mother was so hurt until it was too late. This video really stands out to me because i understand what it's like to truely lose someone that is that important. Someone that shapes your life so drastically to the point of breaking without them. That person is your home. Personally I don't believe people understand that impact on a person. " It's like screaming but no one can hear" that's tragic. Imagine the intense pain in your heart,body and soul. You're so hurt but nobody sees the pain which someone should because if you look into someone's eyes deep enough, you can see their whole story. She lost her home and it's gone forever...click the link...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=15OQKvPuZBw When I was about 4 I lost my father. I'm not sure if people fully understand lost but I definitely wish I never experienced it. As a child I didn't understand that when someone died they never returned. I was only a child I didn't get it and looking back I understand my mothers actions. It was a normal day for me but my parents had an argument before my mom took me to school. My father was a proud man, he didn't accept anything he didn't agree with and he didn't agree with me staying at head start if I could start kindergarten. While my father was proud my mother was stubborn, she knew my father was right but because she was stuck in her ways she didn't bother to listen to him. Which I wish she would have because if she would have maybe I would still have a home... not a broken one. My mother put me in the car and we begin making our way to school with the rest of my siblings. My father had left out before us because he was determined to beat us there even if it was on foot. My house wasn't far from my school probably 10 minutes of walking. My mom made a turn into the street that my school was on, only to get stopped before moving any farther. Cops, firefighters and emt where scattered through the streets. My father was a victim of a hit and run driver that day. He was found and pleaded not guilty. My mother and grandmother fought in could for over a year. My mother won the case but it wasn't until before my graduation we received a letter from the guy. He finally apologized. I accepted his apology and went to visit him for closer but I didn't get the closer I was looking for. My mother would constantly walk up and down the street for weeks, that turned to months with me. I would ask over and over again why are we doing this? can we go home? Her response never changed " we don't have a home anymore, just a fragment of what use to be...home." As a child I didn't understand but I understand today. I understand her completely.
My understanding of Hiraeth is lost. I can't think of anything else that is associated with hiraeth because it's not anything else. When I think of hiraeth the only feeling I get is emptiness, thoughts of a happy place that is nonexistent. My understanding of hiraeth is the lost of a persons safe place, a persons home and future permanently. When I think of home I don't think of a building or house. I think of my family. It doesn't matter where I end up as long as I end up at a destination with my family. I feel pity for these that lost their family. They're true victims of hiraeth. Imagine waking up everyday to a void of emptiness that was once filled with ongoing emotions towards loved ones. That feeling of true lost that only you ( the victim ) can feel because it was your family and you home alone that's eternally perished. It's when you begin to think of ways of survival. It's trying to figure out where life will take you. It's to continue to push yourself to life for the ones you loved so dearly but lost in the end. It's you not knowing where you're going in life but still surviving with no hope for a better life. It's wondering if you'll ever be happy and fill that empty feeling inside because you know that it doesn't matter where life takes you, your home is lost and you'll always find nothingness where you once looked for meaning. Hiraeth is tragedy in every way it's described in my eyes it just happened to be personal.
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