Like father like son

Shana Earley November 19, 2007
Creative writing Period 2
Like Father Like Son

Kevin jr. walks into the ballroom and greets everyone except for my father. My father leans over to my mother and whispers “Who invited him”. That is when I thought to myself that it was going to be another one of those crazy nights.
All of my family gathered together on a hot summer evening to celebrate my father’s fiftieth birthday. Family and friends traveled from all over to make my father’s birthday even more enjoyable. Everyone arrived with beautiful gifts in which they sat on the table that was beside my father. My brother walks past and puts a gift on the table without saying a word to my father. When my father saw that he had put the gift on the table he pulled my mom close and said “It’s probably a bomb in that box”.
The party began with a program that my mother had put together. The program was filled with poems, songs, and speeches all dedicated to my father. Everyone was given a copy of the program so that they could follow along. When everyone turned the page to they saw a speech labeled “To my father”, and my father was applaud when he saw that his son was the one who wrote. My mother smiled at the reaction that she knew he would give. Kevin jr. stood up to approach the front of the room. He then grabbed the microphone, took a deep breath and he began to speak.
“Hi everyone how ya’ll doing. I hope that you are all enjoying yourselves. Let me start by saying that my father and I have had a lot of differences in the past”. The people in the room were curious to see what he was about to say so they became completely silent. “We have different views on life. He’s the old school and I am the new school. But one day I realized that us being born during different times is the only difference between me and my father. I am just like my father, and because of that we tend to clash a lot” My mother looked over at my father who was now in a daze. Kevin jr. continued by saying “I look up to my father because of his strength and wisdom. Life is too short for him and I to continuously fight like children. On my journey to become a man I would rather learn from my father and maybe, just maybe, I will become at least half the man he has grown to be”.
The room was still silent as my father stood up from his table to go and stand next to my father at the front of the room to give him a hand shake and then a hug. The room was now filled with cheering and applause. The photographer ran over to take a picture of my father and my brother. In this picture both men were wearing white suites that made them look even more identical. The photographer snapped the picture just as a tear rolled down my father’s right eye.