Narrative essay structures and techniques

¶ … photo was taken on one of the happiest days of my childhood, the first day of summer after third grade. I remember waking up with the sunrise that day. My brother and I jumped out of bed when the alarm went off. It was the first day of summer, and we were delighted to see that the sun was shining brightly. Birds chirped madly outside our second floor bedroom window, and my brother and I sat there for a few moments before mom ushered us downstairs for our breakfast. She was as excited as we were that there was no more school for the next three months. She and dad ate their cereal with as much joy as we did, shoveling down every bite with enthusiasm. Dad was the first one to mention the soccer game that afternoon.

So who is going to be there? Is Joey? Dharma? Magdalena?"

My brother answered before dad could finish naming our friends' names.

Yeah, they'll all be there," he said with a mouth full of Cheerios.

Mom was equally as quick to participate in the blossoming breakfast conversation.

It's such a nice day. Maybe we'll carpool with the Kleins after the game, maybe we'll pick you up and all go out for some pizza or something," she said with a big smile and a wink.

A nodded my head in strong affirmation of the pizza suggestion; my mouth was too full of grub to say a word. Before I knew it we were piling into our minivan and headed for the community soccer field. My brother and I both had duffel bags full of soccer clothes, towels, and water bottles. We stared out of the windows at the scenery that sped by. I remember the time on the clock: 8:15 AM. I was really looking forward to this game because the last time we played, they won. I glanced at my brother, who was a grade ahead of me. Leon looked like an older version of me at the time, with his chocolate eyes and shiny, straight black hair. I was really looking forward to seeing our friends, many of whom went to different schools than we did. We all came together to play soccer. Rich or poor, Jewish or Muslim, boy or girl, we all loved to compete on the field. It was unique for kids our age, I was told. My mom was always amazed that the girls wanted to play alongside the boys, but that's because she was so old-fashioned.

All of us friends were aware of our ethnic differences because our families had known each other for so long. We lived close by, but some of us went to private schools. Others went to religious academies and most of us went to the public elementary school. I had been over at most of their houses for dinner and they served totally different foods from what I was used to at home. Ling's family was Chinese and their food was my favorite. I was sort of hoping that we would be invited over to her and her brother's house one day soon. Our parents were really good friends and interested in each others' cultures. Just as they respected the differences between their friends, my brother and I also respected and admired the differences in our respective cultures.