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Growing up in Brooklyn, church was a big thing in my family. Every Sunday morning, my older sister and I would wake up to the smell of scrabbled eggs and French toast my mother cooked. She would always serve us in big portions, that was the reason why my stomach was the size of one of those exercise balls. My sister hated being served big portions of food.
She always used me as an example of how she was going to get if she kept eating a lot of food, which I really didnt care. As soon as the scent of the food entered my nose, I would rush to the kitchen table. My sister, on the other hand, took forever just to get up off her bed. Unlike my sister, My mother would already be dressed before we even woke up which surprised me because she would take literally two hours. In two hours, she would have her hair well done in a fancy ponytail and also have her favorite black outfit on, which consisted of a sparkling blouse and pants. We would leave home at exactly seven in the morning, right when the cold breeze swept the neighborhood.
My sister, Carina, had the tendency to stop at the corner store before entering the church. She would walk in, and as fast as you can count to three, she would walk out with two bags of cotton candy. I always found it strange how she treated me politely on Sundays and rude every other day. The view of the church from the outside was stunning. The colorful form stone and the amazing landscaping made it look like a mini castle. Every time we enter the church I would vision myself as a knight walking into my kingdom with my mother and sister being my servants.
I would walk with my head up high and my arms resting on my hips. In a demandingly tone of voice, I would say Open the door for your master. She would respond back by saying In your dreams pee wee. Every part of the church was marvelous, from the appealing paintings of angels on the ceiling to the shiny, hard wooded floor The lovely, fresh, flowery smell reminded me of my grandmothers garden. From the entrance to the front of the church, my mother walked in an upward position with her head tilted back. People would often yell This is not the army lady.
which I actually found funny. It was a rule of my mother that every single time we attended church we had to sit at the front because according to her, the back was for non-believers. At age nine, when the world seemed like a playground, church was nothing but a tiresome place to be. I didnt understand the reason why people would gather around just to sit silently in their pews to observe the ministry.
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Research essay sample on Big Portions Church Sister
