Miranda+Engholm

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HELLO and WELCOME!!!!﻿ I'm Miranda and I hope you enoy my peice!

== ** Basically, my life is made up of little stories and memories. Most are good, some are sad, and some make me mad. I mostly remember the good but maybe it is because I automatically erase bad memories like getting hurt, arguments with my mother about cleaning my room or my sisters being born. My life also consists of important things, for example my family. They are very important to me, because they take care of me and protect me and get me pretty much everything I need. Other aspects of my life are friends, God and school/ other activities. Many friends, family and teachers have helped me create these memories; therefore I would like to thank all of these people for the inspiration that they have given me. I cannot express my gratitude to them enough, but THANK YOU! This collection of my life is dear to my heart and I hope that these memories make you smile, cry, laugh or make you mad (they sure did to me). Enjoy! ** ==  __**~Miranda Engholm** __ ** __ Trouble Being Born __ ** It is January 2nd 2003 and my mother, is HUGE. Her stomach pops out of her and it looks very, very strange to me. She can barely move and I love the way it feels when I put my hand on her tummy and feel the pit-patter of feet on my small hands. I, Miranda Engholm, am five years old and I have wanted a little sister for as long as I can remember. I cannot wait to become a big sister. My mommy and daddy STILL do not know if it will be a boy or a girl. I am praying for a girl, because I want someone like me. Who wants a noisy little brother? I told by parents that “it will be a girl and her name will be Rebecca.” They keep answering “sure, but we’ll see.” I have been dreaming about a little sister for as long as I can remember. My Grandma, Grandpa and// Tia //(aunt) from Mexico are here to help my mother while she is pregnant. I wonder why she needs so much help, I mean how MUCH can you get? I will admit that since I do not go to school yet, I do have a lot of fun with Bombon (this is the nickname I have for my aunt) while my grandma stays home with my mom. I must be very disruptive, since I need to be taken away all the time. We go swimming everyday at the YMCA. There is this annoying lifeguard that won’t leave me alone. He keeps trying to give me “tips” on how to swim, but why can’t he see that I know already! He has corny glasses and only wears green shirts. I wish he would just go away sometimes. Today I went to Chucky Cheeses’ with my friends the Schneider’s. They moved to North Carolina and are visiting! I was very excited to see them, especially my friend Lauren. We played on the jungle-gym and rides, and I feel so special when I am able to climb up those thick purple floors that lead up to the slide. I don’t like all the noisiness, but I can survive. That night I remember hearing footsteps, but then going back to sleep. The next day I woke up groggily and went downstairs and did not see my Mom or Dad. I asked Bombon where they were, and she replied that they had gone to the hospital. I was very excited, because either the baby was born already, but would be born really, really soon. “Can we call them?” I asked eagerly, as I jumped up and down in the kitchen. “Let’s wait until they call us, okay, // preciosa //” answered my aunt in a calm and kind tone with a hint of irritation. “Ayyyy... ugggh” I grunted The horrible part of being five years old is that you get EXTREAMLY impatient. I don’t remember anything else about that day, except that at night we got a phone call from my daddy. Reaching up and grabbing the phone I bellowed “HIIIIIIIII!!!” “Hello princess…” “Is it a girl? What did you name her? When can I see her (or him)? JUST TELL ME WHAT IT IS!!!” I interrupted, for you see, as I said before, five year olds are VERY impatient. “Stop screaming into the phone right now! I’ll tell you if you let me, now stop interrupting.” my father strictly told me. I hate it when my parents yell at me. Knots are tied in my stomach, like an activity at a boy scouts reunion. I know he won’t go on until I say the next words, but this time I DO mean them. “I’m sorry, Dad.” I say, “I’m jut excited” “Ok, I’m sorry too” There is a moment of silence and I think I am going to burst if he doesn’t go on. “It is a girl, her name is Rebecca. She is…” I am so excited I don’t hear the unimportant part about the ounces and length. Excitement flies through me, because my parents chose the name I wanted! Dancing, and jumping around the room, I twirl and yell. (Five year olds are also very forgetful). The next day, my dad came to pick us up, and brought us to the hospital. I remember that hospital smell and the grinning nurses, and the grouchy ones. I remember when my dad had given me the red sweatshirt that read, “I’m the BIG sister”. People smiled while they passed. I don’t know why, but it seems to me that when people are grouchy and they pass by me they smile. I must have superpowers. People commented on my sweatshirt and say “are you excited to meet you little sister?” and of course since I am shy, I just nod. I remember walking into the room that was as white as milk in my cereal. There was a distinct smell that combined baby powder and cleaning supplies that wafted throughout the room. I look over to see my mom on the large bed, but she doesn’t have the baby with her! “What happened?” I ask, getting worried. A barricade of doubts zipped through my mind. // Is she sick? Did someone steal her? WHERE IS SHE!? //   “It’s okay,” My mother reassured me obviously reading my frantic expression, “She’s just sleeping.” “Phew! I was getting worried.” About half an hour later, which felt like an eternity, I was able to meet my little sister. Her pink face looked strange, // aren’t babies supposed to be cute? // (of course I didn’t say this out loud, since it would have been rude). My sister had a red face and small brown eyes that mainly stayed shut. I held her, and she would start to cry and then be quiet. Imagine that just over 24 hours, she was inside my mother. Over the next few days, people visited my family on and on, with presents and more presents for // HER //! Here nobody cares about the big sister that is such a big help while daddy is at work, running to get bottles and fresh diapers, and even through away dirty ones in the “diaper genie”. Nobody thinks about the five year old girl that has wanted the “adorable little angel” for almost all her life! Gift after gift, after smile after smile, for the new baby was all that happened at my house. This was not what I had wanted for the first week of having a sister.// It is probably going to last forever, but I am not going to let that little girl steal my family and everyone else with her “cute” charms. I have to do something about it. // The more I tried to do things, like being even more helpful around the house, and doing my chores, nothing happened. The clock was ticking and it was taking a lifetime. People told me about the diapers, the errands, the crying but NOBODY told me about the little girl stealing all the attention. Later on, people did ask me if I was jealous of Rebecca; but of course I always said “no” (because you never want people to actually think you don’t love your new sister). Of course, I DO and DID love my sister, but I didn’t like all the attention she was getting. I was always the star of the family, in all the pictures and hanging out with friends, but I would have to get used to the new life of having a little sister. As I look back at my crazy little life, I realize that I shouldn’t have gotten mad at my sister; it wasn’t her fault, anyway. The attention didn’t last for all eternity like I had thought it would. It even wore off a moth later! Now, my sister Rebecca still gets a lot of attention, but because she is the trouble maker in the family. She loves destroying things, and even though she is eight, still loves the dangerous life. I do not know how life would be without this strong-willed child, but I do know that it wouldn’t be the way it is now. I am very glad that my sister was born, and I even got the privilege to be the older sister of another crazy girl. I will never forget this memory, for it is dear to me, and it helped me learn the lesson of “LOVE”. ** __ Swimming in Autumn __ ** From the beginning I knew it was a bad idea to go canoeing with my grandma, my friend Rachel, and her mom all in the same canoe. “You have to paddle on the opposite side of the person in front of you!” I had exclaimed so many times, while my friend Rachel was still on the same side paddling, (she was behind me). And to top it off each time I said that, she would hit me with her paddle (personally, I think she was just jealous that I am better rower than her). It was getting very irritating and tedious trying to explain how to canoe, especially to people that are supposedly more intelligent. I cannot count how many times I had said, “Don’t stop paddling, because if you do we go the wrong way!” and “Now you can stop paddling! We’re going to crash into another branch!” and I even had to say, “Only the back steers!” It may sound odd to you that I, a then-twelve year old girl, was giving instructions to people that are older than me but however, after a few times of going canoeing, I had figured out some “Do’s” and “Don’ts”, by experience. During this trip I had felt the boat lean over many times but after a few seconds, it would steady again. However, when we were all paddling on the same side, we did not steady after a few seconds... the water was frozen, I could not feel my feet or my legs, and the shock was the worst. I had not expected to tip over during this canoe trip. // I hope my family misses me if I die //I muttered to myself//. //After my dad assured me that I was going to be okay and after screaming over the frozen water, I finally noticed that my grandma, Rachel and her mom were all in the water too. I think I was so cold that I had forgotten that they were in the water. After feeling so bad about not noticing them, and asking them if they were okay for the umpteenth time, I started to feel warmer. // Have I been in here that long? Is it because I have been here for all that time? I bet it was over an hour… or maybe it’s just because the water is ice-cube cold. //I looked up towards the dirt pathway and saw STRANGERS taking pictures! // Great, we are going to be on the internet! //I then swam over to my parents’ boat. My mom helped me get to shore. When I got out of the water I felt fine, but numb. When I finally reached the dirt trail, strangers greeted us with warm sweaters. // How nice //! I thought to myself // but we only get to use them for two seconds and then have to give them back //! I felt bad about thinking these thoughts so I tried to think of something nicer// ... well I guess they are trying to be kind… its not like they just walked past… // “Come on girls!” Mrs. Beltran exclaimed to her daughter and me after we took off our wet jackets and put on warm sweaters, “we have to canoe all the way back to where we rented these canoes!” “We’re not canoeing all the way back again!” Rachel and I chimed in unison. “We are walking!” We then walked the ten miles back, which my parents say was only two or three. However, I don’t believe them, we walked over an hour. The whole time I was trying to think of positive thoughts instead of negative ones. Other than being worried of how cold I was or how windy the weather was and how there was a chance of me getting sick, I thought that since my feet were so numb I couldn’t feel the rocks and wasn’t as tired because my legs couldn’t feel anything. But, when I thought about how cold I was my thoughts kept returning to if we had not flipped over, then I would not be walking. While I thought about this event, I felt the wind on my face, the water slowly trickling down my back from my cold and wet hair. // I’ve gone swimming in the fall… and it wasn’t fun. // This was an experience that I will never forget. I know that I will give canoeing another chance, I love the water and nature… but I didn’t think that I would do it too soon, and I haven’t yet! ** __ Unexpected Friends __ ** When I walked into that blue and green room Sunday morning, I didn’t know that the people that I was looking at would be my best friends in about three years. They were wearing pink sweatshirts and Miss Ruth was looking at me with a pleading look. There was some trouble, or something was wrong. Miss Ruth is very particular and HATES it when anything goes wrong. “Can you PLEASE translate for Lina and Camila?” she asked, “they are Rachel’s cousins from Columbia” I look at my friend Rachel and smiles at me but her face reads // I- don’t- know- what- to- do //. I also know for a fact that Rachel doesn’t speak a word of Spanish except for the obvious “// Holas” // and “// Adioses”. //I glance around the room and really observe the cousins. I realize now that I shouldn’t scrutinize people, but when you are eight years old, it doesn’t matter. Camila was the shorter one, and to me, she looked A LOT nicer than Lina. But you should never judge a person, but for some reason you do it anyway. I may sound snobby and spoiled, but I am not. Whenever I would see someone, I would automatically “examine” them, I regret it… but I did. “Sure” I answer while sitting down. I remember trying to translate the plagues when Moses freed the Israelites from Egypt. Afterword, I said hello and they hid behind their mom. They were exceedingly shy, and they barely spoke a word of English. I later learned that they were here in the United States because their dad was threatened. Drug dealers wanted to store their money in their fathers’ church and he said no. They threatened to kill him and his family if they didn’t and they fled at night from these horrible people. They flew here to the United States and hoped to get a job. They were able to get asylum from the government and moved to Charlotte, North Carolina. Their mother, Marta, is sister of my friend Rachel’s dad and so they came to visit them. The next time I saw the Trujillos’ was when they came in the winter, and they were moving here to New Jersey. I remember it was a dark December night and they got out of a truck. The younger girl who turns out is two weeks younger than I am said hello to me and the older one, hid behind her mother. I tried to be as kind as possible and we walked inside and we watched “Lady and the Tramp”. Their younger brother was about seven years old, whose name is Andres was all smiles. They asked me questions and we laughed at all the ridiculous parts in the movie, while our parents had a meeting. Little by little, they became more accustomed to our culture and began to accept me. I felt like I was doing everything I could to help them get used to New Jersey, and it was all leading to failure. I was hopeless, my kindness seemed in vain, and there were NO results. I decided to keep being hospitable and comforting. That is when suddenly… we started to talk and realized the many things we had in common. In the beginning, it felt awkward, but I was finally able to let them come out of their shell. Slowly, but surely these people became the friends that I shared everything with. My many problems (which everyone says can only be solved by a psychiatrist) and my secrets. It just shows that it can take time to create the success you want.