Growing Up, Staying Young Essay -- Personal Narrative Papers

Growing Up, Staying Young I had discomfit sleeping that night. The peaceful, rhythmic breathing of my younger sister crosswise the direction could non calm me as I lay under the covers in the dark, listening for the heavy footsteps of an elderly opus sneaking through the below floor of my house. With one hand firmly choking Red Blankie, I reached with the other to turn the alarm clock on my bedstand toward me. The fluorescent rosy digits whispered 1203 in the still, black room. Perhaps he depart come soon. Delicate tingles danced up my arms, as I froze like a nervous cat, ears up, ready and alert. I rehearsed the carefully planned sequence of events in my head. A suspicious and unfamiliar sound from the living room would be my signal -- a wet snow boot hitting the carpet, a clumsy hand inadvertently knocking over a cup of tea on the fireplace, or a rustle of papers. Carefully, I would slide unwrap of my flowered bed without waking my sleeping sister, tiptoe gently acro ss the chamber floor out into the chilly hall, and down the first quint stairs, avoiding the creaky spots in the floor along the way. There, peering around the ecological niche of the wall that ended at the fifth stair, I would at decease behold the mysterious manhood whom no one in my family -- not Mommy, not Daddy, and of course not superficial Ming -- had ever seen. The bearded man would be dressed in a red suit with ovalbumin trim. His name was Santa Claus. Mommy and Daddy had told me that Santa and his nine reindeer wouldnt come to jell presents under the Christmas tree until after I had fallen asleep, but of course, they didnt drive in about my brilliant plan to catch the old man in the act. Squinting under the meager moonlight that peered in through my bedroom window, I forced my... ...power to believe in other abstractions besides the white-bearded man -- entities such as fate or true love that may seem every bit as fanciful. I also support the ability to i magine a society that does not use bombs to bring disagreements and can instead trust in reason and diplomacy. The idealistic look that one person can make a difference in the world motivates me everyday in my quest to be a doctor.As a child, I read the story of Peter Pan, an adolescent male child who refused to grow up and thus stayed in Never Never Land, a magical place where he wouldnt age and could spend his days in spectacular adventures. I hope that as I grow other year older, I can always keep a little Peter Pan in my spirit, that I can see a story in even the most simple things around me, and that I will continue, every Christmas Eve, to leave cookies and milk out for Santa Claus.