Reflection Essay

Rewinding back into the earlier years of my childhood, I remember the house I used to call home. It was centered in a quiet neighborhood, in the heart of the small town of Warwick in Rhode Island. The house was a small but gorgeous blue Victorian. The shutters were painted white and the yard was filled with everything from stone birdbaths to the swing my father built years ago. Inside, the ceilings were covered in wood beams and straw baskets, while the homemade cabinets my father had once crafted decorated the rooms. I remember my home for many years ago like it was yesterday. I can still see the perfect life I had, riding my bike and playing with the children outside. I had been living the American dream. But all this came to a haltering stop when my parents separated and then viciously divorced. It felt like a ton of bricks were smashing into my heart and world. Everything turned upside town. The day my daddy left was the day my life sank.
“Daddy don’t leave me,” I cried, ho...