Advanced Essay #1: My Golden Path

Introduction

My goal while writing this paper was to collect my feelings as clear as possible on the paper. It is quite difficult for me to put most of what's inside of me into words to the point where the reader understands and feels the emotions I felt. My hopes for this piece now that it is complete is to receive feedback that will progress my writing for the future. Parts that I am most proud of in my writing include the description level I have reached in the process. As I revised my essay, reading the descriptive language I couldn't believe that it was I who wrote it. It felt great. The areas I can say I need improvement on other than getting better with capturing everything is to find ways to minimize my words and still include all of what I want my essays to have.

My Golden Path

They often say that everything happens for a reason. Bad always happens but later on, it benefits you somehow. Does it really in reality? Do you believe that everything that happens has a cause and an effect to it? You tell me. When was the actual last time something in your life happened for a good reason? When a tragedy happens in my life, I try my best to dig up those words of wisdom hiding deep in my mind to remind myself that it will eventually work out at the end. There is always a path you will find in whatever process you go through. Although people often ignore these sayings, I try to remember them as much as I can, it’s definitely a good way to keep myself going through the darkness surrounding my tunnel. With the time that passes, that dark becomes the light you spy at the end of your path, your path of greatness.

I lay my eyes on it every time I walk through that door, whether it is from school or work, it is there right in front of my soul staring back at me. I tell myself, it is more than just a painting hung up on a cream colored wall. Although it is something I can not exactly read or put into words, it seems to draw my full attention into every portion. The words, words of a kind and words of one and only one. I wish I actually knew what each letter represents, and what each word sounded like, or even what the phrase itself means. Is it even a phrase to begin with? I wish someday to understand the truth behind what it says and what it writes. The golden path the utterance follows gives me hope that I’ll find that it someday. The path to paradise — as they call it. I stare at it and questions rise as high as you are.

I’ll eventually find the answers, but I cannot seem to wait. The day every piece of your creation gets the chance to stare at it in a complete puzzle. For now, it’s  just one in infinity enigma slices to gaze upon and wonder about for as long as I live. Behind the path, written in the most inspiring style, I see darkness. The blackness that represents the confusion of this world. The same confusion I, myself, encounter. It is the murky pool I swim in as I attempt to find land — the golden path of letters on the same painting that is hung on the cream colored wall above me. It reminds me of the dark tunnels I’ve entered in my life, nevertheless it evokes me of that hope I hold onto when I need to find the light in those same tunnels.

One of the few ages I could remember in my childhood was nine. The number that came right before ten, and right after eight. It was my family’s third year living here in the United States. The sun was out bright, preparing to lay down for the rest of its day in the barely cloud filled blue sky, when my father left his workplace. Although my parents worked extremely hard, I remember they’d always make time for both my brother and I. On that same afternoon we decided to take a trip to the park for my bike lessons.

The grass was bright green as the sun spit its illuminating rays onto it. You can hear the screams that children let out as they ran around the entire playground as if it was their only happy place. From afar, I could hear my father give my young brother monkey bar lessons. The ground was a swamp filled with alligators and he was a monkey swinging from vine to vine to get to the opposite side.

“Don’t touch the ground, you are so close!” yelled my dad in our foreign language, Berber.

This seemed more like a happy place for my father than for my five-year-old brother.

I was having the time of my life attempting to accomplish such a skill, a skill of riding a bike which I often noticed with the children around me. We were all so incredibly busy enjoying the time we spent together that we didn’t seem to notice the tiny droplets that once blue sky let down upon us. Soon, all of the water the darkness above us held, was let out. The four of us ran to the nearest shield we could find — the slides. Although the weather was horrible and ruined what was all beautiful around us, the smiles remained on our faces. We laughed as we waited for the storm to pass. Water seized from attacking us and we began to walk home. We chatted along the golden path with the wet and cloudy scenery surrounding us.

With each step, the echo of a fire truck seemed to get closer. My brother made a comment about how ridiculously cool the trucks were and our lips spread even wider as we got closer to home. As soon as we turned the; street, we saw two small crowds both filled with people who looked at one thing and one thing only — our home. The big fire truck that once rushed past us, was stationed right in front of our house. The home we have lived in for our first three years in our new country, where we thought our lives would be much simpler. We, unfortunately, thought wrong, and the sad part is that there is no going back to our homeland. The one place where there was happiness around us no matter the situation.

Every time I seem to visit Algeria, I fall in love with it all over again. I am Algerian. Last time we, as a family, had a chance to walk on our beautiful grounds again was the summer that recently passed. We usually stay a month and I will admit that will never be enough. That experience was so incredibly memorable because it was my first time having to attend a traditional marriage since my toddler days. There were all types of beautiful traditional dresses, artifacts, food recipes, as well as actions that each have a meaning behind them.

As a whole, it was so astonishingly prepossessing and it was exactly what we needed after years of complicated obstacles my family faced in America. It made me think about my future and how special I’d want my wedding to be with the roots of where I came from. What an alluring sight it was to watch my family whom I haven’t ever met dance in the middle of the ballroom as more members around them clapped in pride. I hope to one day come back to the place that raises every last bit of happiness stored inside me, to experience all of the traditional pieces of art I grew up admiring. All of the contributions built who I am, and will continue to build me even being across the ocean.  

No matter how far I am I will never forget the family I have back home, along with the culture I grew up learning. Some may ask, haven't you spent ten years of your life in America, and only five in Algeria? Of course, I have lived here for most of my life, but I am incredibly fortunate to have the opportunity to continue to visit my country. Notwithstanding the fact that Algeria is the art in myself that brings me pure and utter joy, it also gives me limitation to live my life the best I could here in America because after all that is the path that has been chosen for me, and I know it’ll lead to great things.  No matter how bumpy it might be, it’ll always be golden.