Personal Narrative: Crooked Little Heart

Thinking of my childhood brings back memories of sunny weather, the crisp, fresh Georgia air, and the smell of freshly cut grass near the local baseball fields. I have always looked back upon my childhood as the happiest days of my life. What did I really need to worry about? There was always food on the table, and I was surrounded by the people I loved. In the novel, Crooked Little Heart, Rosie is depicted as a dramatic teenage girl who has lost many people in her life; Rosie’s actions remind me of the last time I visited my great-grandmother. Rosie’s childhood flashbacks of her father make me recall the time I went on a trip to India in seventh grade. After two weeks of visiting family, it was time for us to say our goodbyes, and I remember thinking, this may be the last time I ever see my great-grandmother. The recently widowed, fragile lady sat in a squeaky wooden chair alone. She recognized me, but she often confused me with my brother because of the growing Alzheimer’s disease in her brain. My mother told me stories of events my great-grandmother had lived through. Living nearly a century, she had been alive through countless world conflicts; my own great-grandfather had known Mahatma Gandhi well. There were so many things I
I was ashamed of who I was as a young boy. I resented my own cultural background; living in South Georgia, I foolishly desired a more Western heritage. Today, I look back on my youth in embarrassment because I did not accept myself for who I was. Before I stepped into that car, I felt it would be the last time I would see my great-grandmother. I let her go without even saying goodbye. My thoughts were confirmed as she passed away two weeks later. To this day, I live with regret knowing I let my great-grandmother slip away because of my own selfish thoughts in wanting a different heritage and not accepting