Thursday, January 23, 2020
Money Cannot Substitute Passion :: Personal Narrative, Autobiographical Essay
Money Cannot Substitute Passion "Tuan, this is the last time I'm going to tell you, you better clean the house." said my father. "I'll do it later," I replied. "Later?" he said. "Why don't you just make some money and hire a maid to do it. Then you don't have to worry about it!" Coming from a blue-collar background, my father constantly reminded me of the importance of money. It was many years ago that he arrived in this country, carrying me in one arm and his hopes and dreams on the other. It was upon arriving in the advertised land of opportunity that he quickly learned that money was the only ticket to upward mobility. It was rough in the beginning. My father was forced to scrape and save in hopes of providing us with a better home. A family of four, we shared a bedroom in which we all slept together, never separated by more than a few inches apart. We did not have much except the daily warmth and undying devotion for one another. Through diligence and sacrifice, his hard work paid off and newfound success smiled upon us, changing our lives forever. As our new home quickly filled with all the luxuries and amenities the newly reaped profits and investments could afford, it seemed to become emptier to me. Money soon became a substitute for our slowly vanishing relationships. Lazy Sundays spent with him at the Japanese gardens feeding goldfish were replaced by late nights at the store and a brand spanking new widescreen television. The once friendly dinner table where our lives were intertwined through bowels of rice porridge and bean sprouts was abandoned for meals in seclusion. We ate not together, but in our own rooms. The doors and the walls sealing us off in our own separate worlds, closing us off from one another, and hence leaving only a bad taste lingering inside of me. It was not until I left home for college that I was able to fully comprehend what was happening. You see, I lived on the inside and my father lived on the outside. Standing on the hilltop of the university, I am able to look out and see all the possibilities my brick and ivy education has opened up for me.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.