Nimra+Fatima

Airplanes

Airplanes fascinated me. The thoughts of a flight attendant listening to my every command and the pictures of the exquisite lounges and beds in magazines drifted me to sleep every night. Sometimes I used to poke out of my small __#|window__ and look at the airplanes flying through the dark sky. Near the airplane, the stars twinkled. //They can see the stars up close, lucky!// Had I known that the stars were billion of light years away from us than maybe I would have started bawling! Sometimes airplanes used to look like shooting stars in the night sky, and I used to wish for myriad of things. Even things that couldn’t happen! Then came the day when my mother corrected me that those “shooting stars” were just airplanes. One day I found myself in the airport, impatiently waiting for my moment to sit on the plane soaring in the air near the birds. I tugged on my mom’s jacket walking past the door and into the airplane. It surly didn’t look like what I had seen in Kingfisher commercial. It was congested and barely any room to walk by. We found seats, sat down, and waited for the next 24 hours of hell to begin. “Bawhhh.” The babies in the airplane wailed every night and everyone’s peaceful sleep was disrupted. The sounds of the engine practically made me go deaf, the restrooms were always occupied, and people couldn’t move around without even making some noise. I was awakened to reality. “Why is it horrible here?” I whispered to my mom. “Because we are in economy, first __#|class__ compared to this is heaven.” She replied. I glided into a deep sleep dreaming about the people in first class eating luxurious food, having a real bed to sleep on, and warm cuddly blankets. Never again did I dream about airplanes or wish to sit in one but even to this day I’ll look up to the dark sky and soaring through the air near the twinkling stars I’ll find my “shooting star.”

School School was an exciting adventure for me when I was little. I loved the little kitchens that we played in and pretended to cook, but whenever it was naptime, I would never go to sleep! If you give me naptime now, I will sleep peacefully, but back than school was not torture it was an escape from home and reality into learning. Sometimes in the kitchen, I would whip up myriad of dishes, or I would play with the Barbie dolls that had been the rope in tug-a-war. Nevertheless, I still loved my kitchen and the toys surrounding me. Then I entered kindergarten, where there were no toys to play with or kitchens but there was naptime. However, naptime meant put your head on the table, not go to sleep on the cots back in Pre-k. Your weren’t really suppose to go take a nap, just relax with your eyes closed for four or five minutes. Then it was back to work! “How was school today?” My mother sweetly asked me. “I don’t like it very much, it’s very different.” I replied tiredly. “Well of course it’s different you’re growing up to be a young adult.” She assured me At the thought of becoming more responsible and a young adult, I was pleased that kindergarten made me feel grown-up. Sometimes I look back and wonder why I was so cheerful at the thought of being grown-up because now I wish I had my childhood back.

Money

I was amazed how a green paper with an old man’s picture could bring so much joy to one person, or how low __#|a person__ could for this piece of paper. Money, it was on everyone’s minds. I used to pass Toni’s bakery and the aroma of the cookies and the breads wafted pass my nose. The big signs that were stuck in the window read, ‘FIVE COOKIES FOR $1.’ Every day I passed by the store craving for a sugar or chocolate chip cookie but I never had the money. Some days just for the heck of it, I would walk into the clustered store and ogle at the cookies. However, walking out of the store without a bag stuffed with goodies made me heartbroken and I dragged myself to school. “Happy Birthday!” My teacher mentioned to me as I once again dragged myself to school. “Well you look like a bright as sunshine today!” I nodded my head and walked to my seat. Today was a special day after all one doesn’t turn five ever again. I folded my hands and patiently waited for the teacher to continue. “Everyone calm down and sit down in your seats. I have great news to tell everyone, today is Nimra’s birthday!” Everyone took a swift glance at me and clapped their hands. “Happy Birthday Nimra! Here is your present from the both of us.” She handed me a blood red envelope and I quickly grasped it as if it was my life. It was light, and no Barbie doll could have fit in here. Therefore, every minute I would take a quick peep at the envelope with millions of guesses running through my head. “Bringggg.” The bell ringed and the whole class filed out, I walked outside to see my mom standing by the iron gates. “Well someone looks intently happy.” She assumed. I flashed my baby teeth at her and pulled out the envelope from my Barbie backpack. “What’s this?’ She interrogated me “A present from my teacher.” I answered to her question, so when she was finally assured that I had not stolen the envelope from someone she ripped it open and out slid…a one-dollar bill. The next morning it took hours to persuade Mom that I could take care of my dollar bill and I would not take it out in public or use it, so I skipped down the gray pavements feeling rich. I arrived at Toni’s Bakery 10 minutes earlier; after all, it would take a long time to choose five cookies. I walked in and the familiar aroma of the cookies and breads wafted by. The same sound of the little bell ringed in my ears and the mean cashier awaited me. “You again!” She complained. I walked up to her and threw the dollar bill on the counter feeling pleased with myself “I want a 2 sugar cookies, one chocolate, and two white chunk macadamia cookies.” I announced. “You can’t have five cookies for one dollar that deal was only for one week.” She complained once again. My smile fluttered off like a butterfly and I was heart-broken once again. She handed me the dollar and I walked out of the store once again without a bag stuffed with cookies. Even if the one dollar was spent in another useless way, I always was scared of money because it gave you the wrong intentions and only after the incident did I realize I was disobeying my mother’s strict orders. Still when I get money, I’m ecstatic because money cannot buy happiness but it can buy food.

The Robbery

Every year near my house or practically in front of it there used to be a huge carnival with games to play and win. Every year I would open the door to hear kids screaming and the joy of the adults. Every year I would walk down to the street making sure I had some money in my pocket to play some games. Every year I would return home smiling with a big teddy bear in my arms that I won from the booths. However, this year not everything that happened would happen annually. July always started with the __#|banners__ persuading the visitors passing by to come to the carnival. Than a day or two before they would close the road, put white tents up, and slowly Broadway Street would be covered in tents and booths. I sat on the steps of house eating an ice-cream cone watching the workers design the whole place. It was beautiful, lights covered the booths and tents and nearby houses. They checked the fireworks that they usually did in the end of the carnival. I watched as million of colors burst out into the sky and slowly fell like the rain. I covered my eyes hoping that it didn’t fall on me but sometimes my heart wished I were part of them in the sky and falling slowly to the ground. Night fell and it was time to leave, I ran down the stairs but suddenly stopped when I saw my neighbor ran into his house. My dad looked at me just as puzzled as I was. Suddenly red and blue sirens blared in the distance and the police cars stopped by our house. “Move, move!” They screeched as they jumped over the wired fences and the trashcans. We moved out of their way. //Did I do something bad//? Thoughts ran through my head at 100 miles per hour, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Suddenly all the neighbors on the block piled out of their houses. ‘What happened?” They asked oblivious to the world around them. The neighbor I saw running was out of the house and talking to the police officers. My dad walked up to him and they started walking. I tried hard to hear what was happening but they were so far away. Dad scurried back a scared expression on his face. “Dad, what happened?” I asked quietly. “A…robbery.” He replied choking on the last word. “You stay here; I’m going to go inside the house.” He ordered me as he ran back up the porch steps to the door. I stayed close to the police officers waiting for Dad to reappear from the door. Just than the police came outside dragging a boy no taller than my cousin and pushed him in their police car. It was over. The robber didn’t make it but something haunted me down that day. Fear, I was afraid of a man I didn’t know about, suddenly everything in the world scared me. Even the cracks in the sidewalk. I rolled around in bed that day closing my eyes and picturing the boy’s face in front of mine. I was scared, no terrified to death. I used to be carefree and roam the whole town by myself but I couldn’t, not when fear crept behind my back. I stayed near my mother while my brother and sister independently roamed wherever they could go. Even know nightmares of the boy coming out, hands behind his back rushed past my head. I wished I were stronger that day because now every minute when I hear a creek upstairs or the faucet trickling out water I dive underneath my blankets. Nevertheless, one day I would fight fear and I would be strong, because you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.

Exchange Place

Exchange Place. The water splashed against the mossy rock creating small waves and algae spreading out. Small boats were zooming around Hudson River. I watched the billions of skyscrapers in New York City open their twinkling bright lights as the clear sky dimmed and the sun hid behind the clouds. The moon however danced it way outside, shining brighter than New York’s light. It looked a dark yellow, like a huge yellow diamond twinkling brighter than any other star. I remembered my first day here, standing in the same exact spot looking at the scene when everything was the same. I always had a hard time at school, making my way back home I wandered across a new path. Without any hesitation, I walked along finding a new discovery, Exchange place. I sat on the marble stairs, looking out as if the scene had all the answers to my questions. There was a small boat with memories from the World Trade Center. I used to read the names aloud to myself, the pictures of men and women that smiled at the camera. They drifted away in the smoke of tragedy. Ever since then I walked out of school wandering back to the magical place that held pain but so many memories. I walked on the marble stairs, the soles of my shoes hitting against the platform and I walked out on a part of my life. Now when I look up in the sky for the yellow moon that sparkles like a yellow diamond in the sky, I know I’m somewhat there.

Moving

The aroma of fresh paint hung in the vast vacant blue room. Standing on a soft carpet, I looked at my new room. The walls color was so soothing; the soft air of summer blew in from the open window. I was finally here, in Edison. The news about moving made lightening strike in my heart, I could remember the last day of second grade as I marched with pride showing my report card to my mother. “I got all A’s in my report card, aren’t you proud?” I asked her. “Yes Nimra, I am proud!” She answered. We had reached our brick house and made way for the stairs when I saw a red sign, a sign that read in red bold letters, ‘FOR SALE.’ I looked towards my mom. “Mom, someone, by mistake, put a sign on our yard.” I pointed out making sure she saw it. “It’s supposed to be there.” My mom assured me but I was puzzled like Dora when she couldn’t find her map. That night Mom and Dad went outside not giving us any reason why or where, they just said, ‘we’ll be going outside, have dinner, and by that time we’ll be back.’ I lay on the red sofa waiting for the doorbell to ring and them to answer my myriad of questions. “Ding Dong.” The bell ran and I scurried over to the door. “Where were you guys?” I asked. “We were out looking for a house, and…we found one!” Mom looked ecstatic as she told me about the news but inside I was breaking. I couldn’t just leave everything behind just like that. Everything was happening just too fast for me and I couldn’t take it all in. Here I was now sitting on the floor waiting for my new life to begin, a completely new start. It was like waking up and you were a baby again, naïve and sin-free. The sun’s light danced in front of my eyes, maybe I just needed to fly away from my past and start a completely new future.

My Elevator Ride

It was an ordinary day like any other only the fact that I was going to New York to watch my dad work in his tiny humdrum office. However, it was better than doing, math problems back at school. The sickening smell of New York pollution swayed over me. I held my nose and wondered, ‘where are all the trees?’ Walking on the streets, I looked at the pieces of garbage on the sidewalk. Being sanitary was trivial to them. “New Jersey is so much better.” I muttered closing on the disgusting aroma wafting around. We walked slowly into a big building where the chandelier glowed high. The security asked for my dad's name. While they were busy talking my dad ushered me to go to the eleventh floor on the elevator, he would be there in a minute. I scurried into the elevator all by myself; it felt like I had walked into a time machine. The doors magically closing on everything from my view. In slow motion, I pressed the button, as they do in movies when something extraordinary happens. However, let’s face reality; we all know the elevator won’t become a rocket ship like in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." I was eleven and afraid to go on an elevator, so to defeat my fears I hurriedly pushed the button and the elevator started. You know when the elevator starts you get that feeling like you just went down from the top on a roller coaster. Well, that’s the feeling I got. I put my hands in my pocket and played around with my phone. The last thing I wanted to know was if this elevator was haunted. Yep, its official I am scared of elevators. Then the elevator stopped suddenly and I fell to the floor. Oh, no now some ghost wants to haunt me. No, the elevator was stuck. I tried not to panic, there was an emergency button right there and my phone was in my pocket. The question was "How long would it take?" Did I mention I'm claustrophobic? I pressed the emergency button and switched on my phone. Do not worry; I would get out of here...soon. I hope. After waiting a long time in the filthy box, I walked out feeling nauseous. I drank almost a gallon of water, and a whole lot of food. "I may be eleven but after what happened today I'm never going on an elevator again," I decided as I walked down the stairs stubbornly.

A Friend

Aren’t friends supposed to be there for you? Aren’t they supposed to be near your side and help you get through the thick and thin? Aren’t they supposed to help you when you’re stuck and can’t get through? Or can friends leave you? Middle School, the pathway to responsibility, drama, and change. Everyone around you was changing his or her personality, and his or her get-up, acting more adult like. Now everyone cared about was popularity but in the middle of it all, it didn’t matter if you had the best clothes or not. It mattered who was there to support you. Friends were supposed to be a gift sent from a god, one soul in two bodies, or angels. They weren’t supposed to be devils that changed the way they acted. As the world changed, I sat near my friend during health, in gym, and classes. She knew every secret about me that I poured out of my heart, she knew me so well but one day she also began to change. “Nimra I’m going to be someone else’s partner, sorry.” She responded to my question as she headed for the girl near the door. I sat back down in my chair and asked another girl to be my partner. Unexpectedly she stopped talking to me, always throwing her back on me when I wanted to talk to her. Being closer to her “new” friends and forgetting about me. “Hey, why aren’t you talking to me?” I questioned. “Because I need my space! I don’t want to be your friend anymore! Don’t you get it?” She snapped at me, then turning her back and storming into the locker rooms. I sat on the bleachers as everyone left for the locker rooms, I felt broken like very little piece in my heart was breaking bit by bit; the words punched me in the stomach leaving me breathless. Passing by in the hallways, I see her and scenes from that day replay slowly. //Can someone change that much?// She ignores me as I walk by and I wonder what had I done wrong to receive a broken heart.

Niagara Falls

I stood next to the rusty rail probably filled with creepy crawlers; I closed my eyes picturing myself underneath a waterfall, the pressure of the glacial water hitting against my skin. I could smell the fresh aroma of the river water, as my nose stopped to take a sniff of the delicate scent, a soft breeze rushed past me making my black silky hair fly off in different directions. I opened my eyes and found myself standing next to Niagara Falls, licking my ice-cream which gave me chills that ran down my spine, it was night-time making appealing colors emerge from underneath the Falls. It was an exquisite sight to see, making my eyes overwhelm over the fact how nature could be so alluring. It was a different day, nothing like my monotonous weeks during the summer. When Dad had told us to get packed and hit the road, my mind wasn’t really on it, I loathe lengthy road trips! “Come on!” My sister yelled as she walked around and found a perfect bench that was placed right in front of the Falls. We sat down, looking at the solid branch that was stuck in the middle on the water. I could see the little people down by the “Cave of the Winds” in their yellow, plastic, cheap ponchos, smiling, and thinking to myself “just a few hours ago I was there”. I remember wearing the poncho and the plastic shoes you probably would find in the “Dollar Store”, walking around in those laughable garments, we finally went in an elevator, which took us a few floors down. After that claustrophobic moment, we went through a filthy, muddy, and foul tunnel that took us outside on steps of creaky wooden stairs. Cave of the Winds was found in 1841 and was a tourist attraction to go behind Bridal Veil Falls (Niagara Falls) where there was a 130 feet high cave. In 1920 they closed the attraction when a rock fell and was recalled not safe anymore. They reopened it but they let you in front of Bridal Veil Falls instead of behind it. A set of stairs was build so you can go underneath the falls, I remember the tour director saying. I walked up each step slowly, trying to be careful, apparently, they didn’t do any construction work on these stairs, and they just wedged sticks that were attached to the stairs to rocks. How nice!

There were only a few more steps until the “Thunder Deck” where you’re right underneath the pressure of the water. Fear hit me in the face; it was hard for me to take the next few steps. With my heart doing constant flips, and my eyes dropping at the water underneath me, what if I fell? I stepped on the last step and it screeched, what if this was the step which I would fall through, hit my head on a rock and die? I took the last step and before I could step back and run down, the pressure of water hit my skin, it felt like a million of needles piercing right at you. My dry lips and throat recovered and all the sweat on my skin left as the icy cold water rushed down my back. I stepped out of the position where I could be knocked to the ground; it was a mega-shower! I was drenched wet, water dripping from my hair as I took steps back into the shower. A sensational tingling spread through my body, never did I ever feel this delighted. I think I wouldn’t have gotten out of there if it wasn’t for the fact whenever I took a breath of air, water engulfed my mouth, other than that someone would have dragged me outside. I looked at the colorful falls and took a deep sigh; it wasn’t a bad trip at all. I found how to cure my fear: make someone push you inside, and I found that not all trips that your dad tells you are lame. “Picture time!” My dad yelled. My whole family groaned. We took over a thousand pictures; it was time for me to get some sleep. We gathered up and smiled for the last picture trying to look our best even though we worn-out. As the random person took our last family picture, the fireworks behind us blew up. Perfect! Everything turned out to be perfect, just the way I wanted it to be. The only thing I had to worry about now was the fact if dad had rented a good suite for me to go to sleep in!

7th Grade

Seventh grade, the most tedious grade in the world. Your given responsibility and only one chance to prove them you’re not in “kid city” anymore. I walked down the hallways and passed my old locker recalling old memories about sixth grade. The knight days where we would sing and watch movies, or Field day in Mrs. Scniedermans class where we would push the tables against the wall and wait for the fun to begin. However, I wasn’t there anymore I made my way up the stairs and into my new homeroom. There were new people to meet and I had to face reality, I wasn’t a kid anymore. Not every year would be the same, I knew I would be attached to this class and I would have to move on again. Ms. O’Neill looked at me smiling brightly and waved me to my seat; I sat down and looked at the new faces. They were curios and energetic just waiting there for the school year to begin. I passed my face towards Shelby’s and smiled. “Hello class! My name is Ms. O’Neill, and welcome to seventh grade…” Mischievously smiling, I knew this year would be a remarkable and memorable year that I would never forget.

Authors Note:

When I was writing the memoirs, so many memorable moments came to my head and I didn’t know which one to pick. I picked the ones that meant the most to me and inspired me to think about my emotions. I wanted everyone to know how I felt during this time where I felt the saddest or the most happiest. There were, are, and going to be moments in my life that mean the most to be and some of them are right here. These moments brung me down in life or they brought me up either way I won’t forget the day I walked into an airplane, lost my best friend, moved to a whole new place, and went into seventh grade. While writing this memoir I knew that I needed to let my readers know how I felt during every moment in the story. Writing down my emotions and letting go on paper leaves me breathless and free. It’s as if I’m writing a diary and spilling out my favorite moments that I have lived. I did tell you the tiniest details in my moment to show you everything that happened around me. I guess the only reason why people hold on to memories is because memories are the only things that don’t change when everything else does. Nimra Fatima

Dream Essay

Nimra Fatima English 3

Dream Essay Monday, October 15, 2012

Dreams can take a person to the depths of the ocean or soaring up above the highest clouds. Dreams can take you to another world, a place that is your own. A place filled with dreams, your own little world. However, it is your choice to make sure that “little” world becomes part of your reality.

“Just because it’s in your head, Harry doesn’t mean it’s not real.” (Albus Dumbledore).

Your dreams are the figment of your imagination but that doesn’t mean it can’t be real, that doesn’t mean you can’t pursue them, that doesn’t mean they have to fade away along with all the other goals you had wished to accomplish in the past.

Ever since I was young, I always imagined myself saving lives and people admiring me and calling me a hero. My goal is important for me, because like my sister I never changed what I wanted to be when I grew up. My sister wanted to be a teacher at some point but every few minutes she would change her goal. Mine has been glued to my heart ever since I was born. At a young age I saw my aunt going to the hospital often since she was a doctor. Sometimes I tagged along, getting lost into the white endless hallways and the fresh scented rooms. I imagined myself working here, and knew this was exactly where I belonged.

There are many obstacles that are thrown in your path, trying to stop you from reaching your goal. But there’s only one real enemy that can stop you. You. If you can’t get through the obstacles and you give up, than all your dreams come crashing down. Don’t let your dreams rust, but keep chasing after them. I have a goal, and I know someday I will be there. I will look back, being grateful that I did not slam the door shut and walk away from my dream. Sometimes you will be left with disappointments but that should not affect what you do tomorrow. You have to move on and advance to the next step.

My mantra is to always listen to your heart because you never know where it leads you.

My goal is to become a surgeon; it is not about the money or the position and respect that come with the job. It is about helping people around me, showing them compassion and understanding the real reason behind the job. Some of my possible obstacles might be me. I always question myself, wondering if I’m able to do anything in life. I feel insecure about my decisions and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to do a good job or reach the top in life. But I have to change my feelings, because these small thoughts can knock me down, can change the future. The can destroy my dreams.

Dreaming is not a waste of time; dreams are actually realities in the future waiting to be granted. We might have to put some toil and sweat into it, but dreams will never go to waste if you believe in them and make them come true

Walking in my uniform feels like marching into battle. I was in a battle, a battle against death. I walk down the endless white hallways leading into my office, holding a hot cup of fresh Dunkin Donuts latte as I barge into the vast room. Dropping my purse on the mahogany desk, I turn to face the immense glass windows. Skyscrapers rule the sky, behind the clouds stand many trivial buildings, and even though safe inside a building way in the sky, I can hear the traffic’s racket. I was here to save lives and as I “marched” to the “battlefield”, I feel a sense of pride envelop me. In the end, there is nothing more astonishing to say that, “We saved a life.” However, sometimes in the end, there is that empty feeling in the bottom of your stomach creating a cyclone; the disastrous cyclone that is created by the words, “Time of death...”

Suddenly bloody bodies are rushed past me on stretchers waking me up from my deep thoughts. They are then taken into the operation room, “Time for war,” I say as I scamper behind the nurses entering the “battlefield”. As the doors are about to slide close, I stay in my spot, ready in my armor waiting for someone to say start.

Streams of sunlight hit my exposed skin and illuminate the dark hallways behind me as the automated doors open with a //hiss.// Throughout the day I was able to help people and I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the decisions I made about my dream in the past. I walk out smiling because I could fulfill my dream, and only a few people can say that.

Someday I’ll be there, and I’ll be able to help the people who need help. Becoming a surgeon, I want to aid the people around me and solve puzzles with my hands. I want to be able to make a difference in people’s lives. I don’t want to be called a hero. I don’t want all the money, power, or position.I just want my dream to come true and pass my story on, so the next generation will know how my dream became my reality.