Narrative Essay- Role Model Mom
Nobody really understood. They didn't understand what they were talking about when they told me my mom was "perfect". Sure she was beautiful, intelligent, successful, and rich as well. But, everyone always seems to forget about the past. The scars. It didn't show on her surface, but my mom had at least one hidden scar that she now covered up. And, because she covered it up, nobody knew about it, and she became the "role model" person in my life.
She had always told me she left him out of love. He always told me he had left her out of guilt. Being young and naive, I didn't understand that. I had thought love was when a boy and a girl got married because they liked each other a lot. And, my mother and father had gotten married once. While they were married, they had me. I don't remember very much from my childhood but I can expect it was fine. I always asked to hear the stories, because I loved hearing them. My aunt Jemma was always so eager to fill my ears with the pleasing tales. "You were the perfect family," she used to say. "Young and new and happy," she would say. But it didn't stay like that for long. I now realize that it was my father's actions that caught up with him, and my mother's realisations that caught up with her. Whether they split out of love or out of guilt, I might never know. All I know is that I continued living with my mom, and I thought nothing could have been better.
We lived in a clean penthouse apartment that looked out over the rest of the city. It was a beautiful house, and was much too big for just the both of us. We were like the only two fish swimming in the whole ocean- in that place. Our modern furniture and expensive appliances barely accounted for the smallest amount of the luxury in our lives. I guess my mom had played the cards right. I had never seen a woman more successful in my life, and neither had my friends.
At first glance, I didn't look any different than they did, and certainly didn't act differently either. I was
She had always told me she left him out of love. He always told me he had left her out of guilt. Being young and naive, I didn't understand that. I had thought love was when a boy and a girl got married because they liked each other a lot. And, my mother and father had gotten married once. While they were married, they had me. I don't remember very much from my childhood but I can expect it was fine. I always asked to hear the stories, because I loved hearing them. My aunt Jemma was always so eager to fill my ears with the pleasing tales. "You were the perfect family," she used to say. "Young and new and happy," she would say. But it didn't stay like that for long. I now realize that it was my father's actions that caught up with him, and my mother's realisations that caught up with her. Whether they split out of love or out of guilt, I might never know. All I know is that I continued living with my mom, and I thought nothing could have been better.
We lived in a clean penthouse apartment that looked out over the rest of the city. It was a beautiful house, and was much too big for just the both of us. We were like the only two fish swimming in the whole ocean- in that place. Our modern furniture and expensive appliances barely accounted for the smallest amount of the luxury in our lives. I guess my mom had played the cards right. I had never seen a woman more successful in my life, and neither had my friends.
At first glance, I didn't look any different than they did, and certainly didn't act differently either. I was