Growing Up :: Personal Narrative, Autobiographical Essay

I stumbled kayoed into the yard, my flimsy tennis shoes wrapped in plastic bags and secured with tape. The with child(p) Blizzard of Chattanooga had almost subsided, but snow still vex thick on the ground. The cold air invaded my lungs and stung every move on of exposed skin. My parents were trapped out of town at the state hoops tournament, and my three sisters and I had a baby-sitter that was staying with us. She went to our church, and had known my parents for years. We had enough fodder to last a while, and our family owned enough sleeping bags and blankets to ensure that we didnt freeze. We overly had a fireplace in the den, but no woodland.   Tracy, our baby-sitter, approached me one day while I was reading a book by the window.   Jeff, she said, Do you know how to chop wood?   The correct answer to the question was no, for I had only handed logarithms to my father and watched him smite them in two with a vicious overleap. I tried once, but I could not swi ng the heavy maul hard enough to snap a splinter.   Sure, I answered. How much do you need?   I knew full well that it would be extremely unmanly to confess that I could not break a log in two, and the realization that she probably could have done it neer hit me. I trudged back into my room with a sense of pitiful duty, like a soldier going on a suicide mission to save his brothers. I allowed my baby-sitter to tie the bags on my feet, imagining her as my page readying my trusty sword before battle.   Just name if you need any help, you hear? she told me as I headed for the door. I napped this off as senseless babble, for everyone knew that only men could chop wood.   I trekked across the yard with my head down, snowflakes blowing into my eyes and the cold wind bitter at my nose. The large logs were stored under the deck, and the planks were very high up, allowing me to chop the wood without having to stand in the snow. I rolled a log into position, not withou t a good deal of difficulty, but I reasoned that the log would not be quite so ornery once I had broken it into little pieces.