Homage Project College Essay
I sit and watch a black bird fly high
into the oak tree, the tree is green covered with leaves, so dense
are the leaves that the branches are not visible and the thing,
which I am trying to locate, the nest is hidden in the thick
foliage. The bird disappears into the tree I change my position on
the bench to get a better look at the bird. I am mesmerized by what
I see. The bird hovers over the nest looking at the little ones as
they cheep for they food am I imagining it or is she really counting
her off springs to make sure that all are safe within the nest. The
actions of the bird arte similar to the ones a human mother does.
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And as I continue my observations, I
am taken to my past, I see myself sitting on the breakfast table
with by brothers and sisters and my mother hovering over us making
sure that all of us were eating properly. And inspecting us to see
if there was anything missing trying to be very inconspicuous, she
would try to make out how clean we were before we went to school
and. Just like a superintendent looking over his men. The breakfast
was significant because it indicated the beginning of the day and if
by chance one of us did not measure up to her set standards then we
had it, although when on one of her inspections she did not say or
do anything which indicated her intentions. But if for any reasons
there was non-compliance from any of us for whatever reason then we
would never hear the end of it. Unlike other mothers, she always
made us have a heavy breakfast of eggs and bacon and a glass of
juice. This was a routine followed religiously only to be broken on
Sundays and on holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving. Then we
would have hash brown potatoes and sausages in addition to the
regular breakfast.
And one of the incident I remember was on one of the thanksgiving,
if I can remember correctly it was when I had just turned ten, I
remember because I had just gotten a brand new bicycle, and was very
proud of it. My younger brother Sam, who had a distressing habit of
calling attention to himself, and the rest of us would be dragged
into the storm that would rise.
I still remember very clearly on that fateful day, as we sat around
the breakfast table having our very special breakfast, which we, I
am not sure about the others, but I did look forward to it, he asked
for hot chocolate and cookies as it was rather cold. We looked at
one another waiting for the ceiling to fall or the floor to give in.
Even though we knew that mother, we always called her mother, never
mom or mommy, was not given to theatrics, her fury was not made up
of screeches and screams, instead she acted very dignified even when
she was giving us one of her scold, which was not very often. She
looked at Sam and gave him one of her special looks. If looks could
kill, he would have been buried already. Her steel gray eyes would
glint and we could feel ourselves withering under her piercing gaze.
And the special breakfast was ruined for good, one had to be very
resilient which non of us were at that point, to carry on; instead
we always disappeared, that was the safest option.
She always made it a point to let us know that what we had was far
much better then what others could afford. She had come from a very
poor family, where having a proper meal was like having hot
chocolate for breakfast! So her desire for the routine was like a
safety net which made her think that there was some sort of sanity
and that she was trying to make sure that non of us would go hungry
like she did for years and years. Our demanding of her for something
more was an affront to her feelings, and her life.
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