Question: Identify the narrator's point of view and analyze how it shapes the story. In other words, how does the choice of narrator affect the story?

Directions:
Write an Essay by
Providing text examples to support your response. Consider how much the narrator knows, the physical extent of the information available, and the attitude of the narrator towards the information (plot).

Appreciation is something that is acquired as you grow older, lessons come along the way that make you sit back and look at life from a different perspective. Most things are taken for granted, the biggest, is that of our life on earth as a human being. We take the presence of others in our midst for granted, expecting them to be around at our disposal. It is not until one loses another, for one to truly realize that life is not to be taken granted for. Thus, bringing an individual an aerial view on the appreciation we should have for not only our own life but the lives of others.

July 17th, 2008 was a day I learned one of the biggest lessons of my life, a day where appreciation for not only my presence but my two brothers as well, was put into perspective for my Father. It was a Thursday morning, I can remember it clearly, I woke up at our cottage in Northern Michigan on Glen Lake, one of the most picturesque lakes in the State of Michigan. I was 10 years old at the time, I crawled out of bed to the smell of the Northern pine trees, and the overwhelming burnt eggs coming from the kitchen. It seemed as if it was another normal morning up at the cottage, the sun was shining, glistening off the lake, the birds were chirping, and the noise of the ripples of waves coming onto the rocky shore filled the house. That is when I realized this was not a normal morning, my father normally would always have Fox News playing on the big screen in the family room, and my mom would always be in the kitchen, drinking her coffee and reading the Glen Arbor Sun, the town newspaper.

My older brother, Keegan, was still asleep as usual, and my little brother, Cayce, was, as always, up at the crack of dawn playing in the sand by the shore. The normalness of my brothers’ actions fit the classic cottage morning, but I knew from the moment I came out of my bedroom that something was wrong because my parents were nowhere to be found. I frantically ran up the stairs to my parents’ bedroom, screaming, “Mom!” “Dad!”,  still nowhere to be found. I ran out to the garage and then outside to check the street to see if I could see them on a walk, still nowhere to be found. There was one last spot that they could have been, on the deck outside of the boathouse. I had no faith in them being there, as we only used the deck outside of the boathouse for family dinner at night, but to my surprise, as I walked down the steps from the cottage to the boathouse I could hear my Mother. The deck of the boathouse is on the front of the boathouse, so as I walked down the dock towards the deck of the boathouse, I could hear my mom. As I passed our Navy Blue Cris Craft and two grey Jet ski’s, I realized she was not talking, she was crying. My excitement of finally finding them immediately disappeared. As I rounded the corner, I saw something I have never seen before, my Father comforting my Mother.Appreciation is something that is acquired as you grow older, lessons come along the way that make you sit back and look at life from a different perspective. Most things are taken for granted, the biggest, is that of our life on earth as a human being. We take the presence of others in our midst for granted, expecting them to be around at our disposal. It is not until one loses another, for one to truly realize that life is not to be taken granted for. Thus, bringing an individual an aerial view on the appreciation we should have for not only our own life but the lives of others.

July 17th, 2008 was a day I learned one of the biggest lessons of my life, a day where appreciation for not only my presence but my two brothers as well, was put into perspective for my Father. It was a Thursday morning, I can remember it clearly, I woke up at our cottage in Northern Michigan on Glen Lake, one of the most picturesque lakes in the State of Michigan. I was 10 years old at the time, I crawled out of bed to the smell of the Northern pine trees, and the overwhelming burnt eggs coming from the kitchen. It seemed as if it was another normal morning up at the cottage, the sun was shining, glistening off the lake, the birds were chirping, and the noise of the ripples of waves coming onto the rocky shore filled the house. That is when I realized this was not a normal morning, my father normally would always have Fox News playing on the big screen in the family room, and my mom would always be in the kitchen, drinking her coffee and reading the Glen Arbor Sun, the town newspaper.

im sure you mean write *