Narrative Essay- "You Were Worth It!"
Original: Narrative Essay
“You Were Worth It!”
“Do your best! Aim for nationals! Make us proud,” everybody had said on the morning of my travel to Tandag. With one thousand pesos in my pocket, I set out on the road with seven others to a place still unknown to me- a road of discovery, adventure and accomplishment.
The six-hour drive to Tandag was everything if not convenient. Try as I might, I couldn’t sleep because of the inconsiderably rough road, nausea and uncomfortable sitting position. All the other passengers had their comfy chairs, while mine was only a soft drink case topped with thin ripped foam.
Night had fallen when we arrived at the terminal. My legs were numb, and my stomach swirled with both hunger and nausea. Our quarter, a grade two public classroom, luckily was spacious enough. The officials proved to be hospitable too, by providing us with newly-laundered pillows and sheets.
On the first night, sleep was difficult, though my body was worn from top to bottom. I kept tossing and turning, wondering of life back in Butuan- family, school, friends, someone in particular. Nervousness hadn’t occurred to me until morning- the official opening of the contest. A parade was held, which was helpful for our exploration of the small city, especially its remarkable bay walk- something I could never find in Butuan.
Eat. Sleep. Read. Play cards- that was the cycle of our lives in the quarter while waiting for our contest schedules. Friendship among the seven of us deepened from something casual, into something tested through experience. By experience, I mean typhoon experience. Rain had started making noises on the rusted roof of the building by the second night. It continued until morning, that time with strong winds that tree branches almost bowed down to its intensity. Everybody stayed in silence, probably because of mixed fear and anxiety that I could hear the whistling blow of the wind- typhoon Queenie.
My contest was pursued in the afternoon of the same
“You Were Worth It!”
“Do your best! Aim for nationals! Make us proud,” everybody had said on the morning of my travel to Tandag. With one thousand pesos in my pocket, I set out on the road with seven others to a place still unknown to me- a road of discovery, adventure and accomplishment.
The six-hour drive to Tandag was everything if not convenient. Try as I might, I couldn’t sleep because of the inconsiderably rough road, nausea and uncomfortable sitting position. All the other passengers had their comfy chairs, while mine was only a soft drink case topped with thin ripped foam.
Night had fallen when we arrived at the terminal. My legs were numb, and my stomach swirled with both hunger and nausea. Our quarter, a grade two public classroom, luckily was spacious enough. The officials proved to be hospitable too, by providing us with newly-laundered pillows and sheets.
On the first night, sleep was difficult, though my body was worn from top to bottom. I kept tossing and turning, wondering of life back in Butuan- family, school, friends, someone in particular. Nervousness hadn’t occurred to me until morning- the official opening of the contest. A parade was held, which was helpful for our exploration of the small city, especially its remarkable bay walk- something I could never find in Butuan.
Eat. Sleep. Read. Play cards- that was the cycle of our lives in the quarter while waiting for our contest schedules. Friendship among the seven of us deepened from something casual, into something tested through experience. By experience, I mean typhoon experience. Rain had started making noises on the rusted roof of the building by the second night. It continued until morning, that time with strong winds that tree branches almost bowed down to its intensity. Everybody stayed in silence, probably because of mixed fear and anxiety that I could hear the whistling blow of the wind- typhoon Queenie.
My contest was pursued in the afternoon of the same