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It seems like all of my life I have been changing homes. Even as a toddler, I never really knew what it was to have a Mom and Dad. I did have a lot of temporary parents, but they were never stable. The impact that it had on my life was pretty tremendous. I went from home to home, never really understanding what it was that I would do wrong to get kicked out. Finally, I have moved in with a white family. It's almost been a year now. This is my longest stay at a foster home. Mr. and Mrs. Smit have treated me a little differently than their biological child, considering the fact that I am a different color than they are. But I guess it's better for me to be treated a little differently than be kicked out of their home. It's fun having another child in the house. Sometimes Ann bugs me though. For example, when we play hide and seek, I'm always it. But every time she gets tagged, she'll stop playing because she is tired. Or when she plays with her dolls, she won't let me touch them. Not that I would want to. I don't like playing with dolls anyway. I would rather be playing with my basketball. "Dinner is ready," says Mrs. Smit. When we eat dinner, it is always the same. At six o'clock when Mr. Smit comes home, dinner is already set on the table. When we all sit down, the first thing that we do is pray. Usually Mr. Smit says the prayer, but his wife and Ann have done it too a couple of times. I've never said it though; I guess it's a good thing because I wouldn't know how to do it. After we are done eating, I usually clear the table. I remember back in the summer when the weather would be really hot. I would run outside when I was done. Now that it's snowing, I just go back upstairs and play with Ann. Christmas is coming soon and I'm really excited. I'm hoping Santa will bring me a set of little race cars. I used to wish for my parents to come and get me, but I don't think Santa can find them. The next couple weeks were the same. Everyday after dinner I cleaned up after the family. Christmas dinner was a little special. Mrs. Smit had cooked a big turkey with rice and two different kinds of salads. The scent of the turkey filled the house. I couldn't wait to eat. I was the last one to be served to, but I didn't mind because I was very hungry. After dinner I cleaned the table once more and when I was done, Mrs. Smit told me to come to the living room. They were sitting around the Christmas tree. The different colors from the lights reflected off Ann's happy face as she was opening another gift. I felt as if I didn't belong in their little circle of happiness, so I just waited by the door. I could see the smile on her parents' faces as they watched their daughter open the last gift under the tree. There was nothing for me. Suddenly, I felt sharp pains in my heart. It seemed like somebody was taking me apart. I walked closer to them, and waited to be noticed. I felt as if I was invisible. They gave each other big hugs and left the room. Cold breeze came into the room as I stood there alone. I fell to my knees and everything stared to get blurry. Tears ran down from my face. I crawled on the floor towards the tree, and looked under it once more, hoping to find something for me. There was nothing. "What are you doing boy?" said Mrs. Smit. The wrapping paper was the only thing left on the floor. I stood up. "Where is my gift?" "Black children don't get gifts. Your gift is to live in this house." As she walked out of the room I felt the sharp pains in my heart once more. That night I cried myself to sleep on the cold living room floor. Years went by and each Christmas I didn't receive a present from the Smits'. Eventually, I got used to the idea that my gift was to live in their house. Every night for years, I cleaned the table after dinner and never heard a thank you. Now I have my own house and my own children. And every year I buy them lots of Christmas gifts because I don't want them to feel the same as I did every year.
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My Christmas Gift
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My Christmas Gift

Words: 808    Pages: 3    Paragraphs: 10    Sentences: 77    Read Time: 02:56
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              It seems like all of my life I have been changing homes. Even as a toddler, I never really knew what it was to have a Mom and Dad. I did have a lot of temporary parents, but they were never stable. The impact that it had on my life was pretty tremendous. I went from home to home, never really understanding what it was that I would do wrong to get kicked out.
             
              Finally, I have moved in with a white family. It's almost been a year now. This is my longest stay at a foster home. Mr. and Mrs. Smit have treated me a little differently than their biological child, considering the fact that I am a different color than they are. But I guess it's better for me to be treated a little differently than be kicked out of their home.
             
              It's fun having another child in the house. Sometimes Ann bugs me though. For example, when we play hide and seek, I'm always it. But every time she gets tagged, she'll stop playing because she is tired. Or when she plays with her dolls, she won't let me touch them. Not that I would want to. I don't like playing with dolls anyway. I would rather be playing with my basketball.
             
              "Dinner is ready," says Mrs. Smit.
             
              When we eat dinner, it is always the same. At six o'clock when Mr. Smit comes home, dinner is already set on the table. When we all sit down, the first thing that we do is pray. Usually Mr. Smit says the prayer, but his wife and Ann have done it too a couple of times. I've never said it though; I guess it's a good thing because I wouldn't know how to do it. After we are done eating, I usually clear the table. I remember back in the summer when the weather would be really hot. I would run outside when I was done. Now that it's snowing, I just go back upstairs and play with Ann.
             
              Christmas is coming soon and I'm really excited. I'm hoping Santa will bring me a set of little race cars. I used to wish for my parents to come and get me, but I don't think Santa can find them.
             
              The next couple weeks were the same. Everyday after dinner I cleaned up after the family. Christmas dinner was a little special. Mrs. Smit had cooked a big turkey with rice and two different kinds of salads. The scent of the turkey filled the house. I couldn't wait to eat. I was the last one to be served to, but I didn't mind because I was very hungry. After dinner I cleaned the table once more and when I was done, Mrs. Smit told me to come to the living room.
             
              They were sitting around the Christmas tree. The different colors from the lights reflected off Ann's happy face as she was opening another gift. I felt as if I didn't belong in their little circle of happiness, so I just waited by the door. I could see the smile on her parents' faces as they watched their daughter open the last gift under the tree. There was nothing for me. Suddenly, I felt sharp pains in my heart. It seemed like somebody was taking me apart. I walked closer to them, and waited to be noticed. I felt as if I was invisible. They gave each other big hugs and left the room. Cold breeze came into the room as I stood there alone. I fell to my knees and everything stared to get blurry. Tears ran down from my face. I crawled on the floor towards the tree, and looked under it once more, hoping to find something for me. There was nothing.
             
              "What are you doing boy? " said Mrs. Smit.
             
              The wrapping paper was the only thing left on the floor. I stood up.
             
              "Where is my gift? "
             
              "Black children don't get gifts. Your gift is to live in this house. "
             
              As she walked out of the room I felt the sharp pains in my heart once more. That night I cried myself to sleep on the cold living room floor.
             
              Years went by and each Christmas I didn't receive a present from the Smits'. Eventually, I got used to the idea that my gift was to live in their house. Every night for years, I cleaned the table after dinner and never heard a thank you.
             
              Now I have my own house and my own children. And every year I buy them lots of Christmas gifts because I don't want them to feel the same as I did every year.
Christmas Essay Narrative Essay 
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