She walked with ease through the yard. The grass was tall, it had not been mowed in weeks and the golden buzzing meadow it had become was filled with excitement and wonder for the little kitty. With every step, she discovered something new. Sometimes she found a hiding place, others she found a bug or a mouse. But today she had found a squirrel. She hunkered down low in the tall grass and watched it make its way around the edge of the yard. You could see her body fill with tension, her ears pricked up as she watched it move, unknowingly, across her turf. She prepared her back legs and wiggled her raised haunches. With no warning she lept and bounded towards her pray. For a second she gained on the squirrel, and then it began to run. She chased it around the yard and the second before she could reach out to snag it, it jumped to a tree and ran, flying from tree to tree until it was several back-yards away.
I spotted the sun before they did. I raced ahead of my parents through the dark, damp forest, racing towards the light, and suddenly I was in the middle of bright, colorful, vibrant sunshine. The small field throbbed with life as the hot star at the middle of our solar system beat down on the landscape. The little map in my mind told me that we were close now, and I jumped up and down impatiently in the tall grass as my parents emerged from the woods. They rejoined me, and we walked together through the meadow and onto the dusty dirt road. When I spotted the weathered grey wood fence, I began to run again, this time along a small path that seemed to lead back into the forest. But no, in about a minute, the trail opened up to the tough rocks, sparse vegetation, and saline scent of the Maine coast. I dashed to the edge of the grass and looked out upon the endless blueness that is the Atlantic ocean. My parents finally made it, and we sat down at our favorite spot: a pair of red adirondack chairs situated in a little circle of grass in the loveliest spot I could ever imagine.
Brandon, I love how you describe this moment. I especially like the contrast of the “dark, damp forest” to the “bright, colorful, vibrant sunshine”, because with the visual description, there is also the feeling of the cold forest and the sudden warmth of the sun. You did this very well without lingering on the description for too long. I also liked how you conveyed your excitement through having to wait for your parents; this moved the piece along nicely. Great job!
My family loves to travel. Usually, we travel within the United States, and our family vacations almost always involve being close to a national park. In fact, we often plan our trips around visiting a specific national park. All told, I've been to at least seventeen national parks so far. No matter where we go, though, we always manage to find hilarity and these funny moments become the subject of long-running jokes. One of our favorites was in Rocky Mountain National Park in 2009. In Rocky Mountain, there is a main road, called Trail Ridge Road, that winds up and over the Rockies and the Continental Divide, dropping you on the other side of the park. It is both the most direct and most famous route from Estes Park on the east side of RMNP to Grand Lake on the west. It is also very beautiful. As you can imagine, going up and over the mountains takes some doing. Mostly, they cut a road into the side of the mountains, so that when you drive it, you're hugging the mountain on one side and enjoying beautiful views on the other. The moment of mirth came at one such mountain-hugging moment. The road curved around to the right, disappearing around the side of the mountain. You could not have had a more clear right turn. And there it was. A sign, posted just before the curve, that said in bold, black letters, NO LEFT TURN. Well, my family's sense of humor is such that we just burst out laughing. Really? A left turn off the cliff? Why would you even need to say that? We were in stitches, laughing so hard. It was perfect.
I love this, Haley Jo! It's so funny and the narrative progression of the story is well-organized. I like how you start with some background and essentially say that the story is going to be humorous. You then give some context for this specific trip, and then finally talk about the specific occasion, in all its hilarity. I also love the way you end it, almost seriously, in a way showing the bigger picture. I found myself transitioning from giggling to suddenly thinking, "Yeah, I can't really imagine anything better than funny family memories like this." Aside from how it took me a moment longer than it should have to figure out what RMNP stood for (which is my fault since you write it out three lines above), I have no suggestions for improvements. Great job!
I swayed back and forth on the bleachers, shifting my weight from foot to foot, attempting to warm myself up. My hands were dug deep into the pockets of the my dads jacket that he had graciously given to me when he saw me shivering. I looked over at Kate; she was wearing her Waynflete soccer sweatshirt and short spandex. She stared out onto the turf field cheering on her teammates. She had been on the rugby team for just a couple of weeks and so she spent most of the game on the sidelines. It came as a surprise when she had announced her new found activity; I had never seen a game of rugby and barely knew any rules. And so I stood shivering on the stands watching Kate’s teammates throw an oversized football up the field and try not to get tackled. I had no concept of what was happening on the field short of what I saw. I knew no ins and outs of the team, I couldn’t tell you if they were playing well or who was even the most dominant of players. How many times had I done this before? Too many to count at this point. Being freezing cold on the sidelines as the sun sets and I watch Kate play a sport that I don't understand is a feeling close to my heart. In elementary school it was her middle school games, in middle school I watched her varsity games and now, a junior and having played in all those middle school and high school games myself, I watch her for the first time compete at the collegiate level. It is the first time I am visiting her at Tufts and throughout the day I have had weird feelings swirling in my stomach as Kate shows me her new life. But now, as I watch Kate take the field, I am brought back to a familiar place and I realize that Kate will forever be my older sister that has a life just out of my reach and that I am completely in awe of and confused by.
A few years ago my parents gave me a budget and told me to plan a summer vacation. I immediately knew where we were going. A few months later we began the drive from Buxton, Maine to Sandusky, Ohio. We drove twelve hours to Cedar Point (“The Rollercoaster Capital of the World”), listening to the Hunger Games Trilogy (to avoid too much family bonding) and watching the endless fields of grapes zip past us. We spent the night in an overpriced hotel before driving the last ten minutes to our final destination. I was, by far, the most excited in the car. When we arrived, we were greeted by rain. Heavy rain. The rollercoasters were shut down and everyone in the never-ending line ran for cover. We stood in the rain for hours, the line gradually becoming shorter as the rain increased. Soon we were at the front of the line, only a few moments later the rain stopped completely. For hours it seemed like we had the whole park to ourselves. I couldn’t have asked for a better trip.
Emily, this is really cool! I really enjoyed reading about your family trip, and I think you described the road trip very well, with the audiobook playing while you look out the window. It' say feeling I can relate to very well, and you captured it wonderfully. I do have a couple of questions, though. Why Cedar Point? Do you really like roller coasters? If so, why? And, although I do know the feeling of standing in line through terrible weather, because I needed the context, I was confused. That's it, though. Good job!
The wind whipped my hair out behind me. I only held on with one hand, in stark contrast to another memorable time when I was six and held on tightly with both hands, knuckles white with the effort. I could taste the salty air and shivered, because it was cold on the water, only to the next moment bask in the heat of the mid-morning sun. The motor droned on, punctuated every few seconds with the sound of the boat slapping the water. I looked over at my dad, and saw that he had pushed the throttle as far forward as it could go. He generally didn't go this fast. Usually one or both of the motors were broken, or we were just in the cove. Today we were racing miles across Penobscot Bay for lobsters from Little Deer Isle. It was only July 5th. I had the entire summer before me.
I really like this post, Anna! You did a great job of describing a feeling that a lot of people can relate to. I liked how after you described the physical feeling of the cold wind and the salty air and the noises of the boat, you ended it with an equally relatable emotional feeling. I liked the purely physical description, but ending with the more abstract description of freedom was a nice end to the post. I think you did a great job :)
I have kind of a weird extended family, as do most people. I have determined that everyone thinks that they have a really weird family because when you are with family you can be yourself (so everyone ultimately thinks you’re weird because we're all weird at heart). One time I was at my great-aunt’s 80th birthday celebration in Connecticut. Her birthday happens to be the same day as mine and that day I was turning 10, so I was talking to everyone there and getting all of the attention that I could. My uncle disappeared with my dad for awhile, and returned with a fish clenched between his fingers. We all ran over to see it and feels its slimy skin. They decided it would be good to eat, so my uncle began gutting and filleting the fish. We all watched in amazement as he dissected the once lively aquatic animal. My memory of this day is unclear, but the one moment that I do remember with perfect clarity is when he handed me the fish’s eyeball and told me to eat it...
When I was eight years old, my entire family took a trip to Scotland. We do this every few years as a type of family reunion, but we all live in Maine, so we see each other frequently. This trip was one that stuck in my mind, it was when I really started getting close with my extended family. When we landed in Scotland we got our bags, got our rental car, and headed over to Androssan, where we would catch the ferry over to the Isle of Arran. The ferry was always one of my favorite parts of the trip. There were comfy booths to sit in, and surprisingly delicious food to eat. I always got the mac and cheese. The boat came to a slow stop, and I knew that we had come ashore to one of the greatest places on earth.
The kitchen was always busy back then at this time of night. My mom and dad would cut up meat, cooking pasta and throwing spices all over the place. I would come inside from a long day of playing and my mother would just point one stern finger at the sink, and I washed the cups and silverware singing some song I heard on the radio under my breath. Soon after I finished with the dishes, I would call as loudly as I could, “Boysss! Food's ready!!” And, my brothers would all run downstairs, feet rumbling out a beat that I knew so well. My dad would set out the red and yellow straw mat on the living-room floor and we would grab dishes and the prepared food to bring over and lay out. It was always a beautiful feast and we would make sure to wash our hands and say, “Bismillah,” before we began eating. Then we would dig in, eating with our hands and sitting cross-legged on the floor. The windows would be open in the summer, and it seemed the curtains moved themselves aside to let some of the sunset glow set in around our food. After our stomachs grew full and our plates were wiped clean, we would stand up gingerly, and all of us would pat our bellies and thank our Hooyo for the meal before going to wash our hands and mouths again. And, then we would pray. Saying words we knew we had to say because they felt right, and even though we didn't know what they meant, they were still meaningful.
She walked with ease through the yard. The grass was tall, it had not been mowed in weeks and the golden buzzing meadow it had become was filled with excitement and wonder for the little kitty. With every step, she discovered something new. Sometimes she found a hiding place, others she found a bug or a mouse. But today she had found a squirrel. She hunkered down low in the tall grass and watched it make its way around the edge of the yard. You could see her body fill with tension, her ears pricked up as she watched it move, unknowingly, across her turf. She prepared her back legs and wiggled her raised haunches. With no warning she lept and bounded towards her pray. For a second she gained on the squirrel, and then it began to run. She chased it around the yard and the second before she could reach out to snag it, it jumped to a tree and ran, flying from tree to tree until it was several back-yards away.
ReplyDeleteI spotted the sun before they did. I raced ahead of my parents through the dark, damp forest, racing towards the light, and suddenly I was in the middle of bright, colorful, vibrant sunshine. The small field throbbed with life as the hot star at the middle of our solar system beat down on the landscape. The little map in my mind told me that we were close now, and I jumped up and down impatiently in the tall grass as my parents emerged from the woods. They rejoined me, and we walked together through the meadow and onto the dusty dirt road. When I spotted the weathered grey wood fence, I began to run again, this time along a small path that seemed to lead back into the forest. But no, in about a minute, the trail opened up to the tough rocks, sparse vegetation, and saline scent of the Maine coast. I dashed to the edge of the grass and looked out upon the endless blueness that is the Atlantic ocean. My parents finally made it, and we sat down at our favorite spot: a pair of red adirondack chairs situated in a little circle of grass in the loveliest spot I could ever imagine.
ReplyDeleteBrandon, I love how you describe this moment. I especially like the contrast of the “dark, damp forest” to the “bright, colorful, vibrant sunshine”, because with the visual description, there is also the feeling of the cold forest and the sudden warmth of the sun. You did this very well without lingering on the description for too long. I also liked how you conveyed your excitement through having to wait for your parents; this moved the piece along nicely. Great job!
DeleteMy family loves to travel. Usually, we travel within the United States, and our family vacations almost always involve being close to a national park. In fact, we often plan our trips around visiting a specific national park. All told, I've been to at least seventeen national parks so far. No matter where we go, though, we always manage to find hilarity and these funny moments become the subject of long-running jokes.
ReplyDeleteOne of our favorites was in Rocky Mountain National Park in 2009. In Rocky Mountain, there is a main road, called Trail Ridge Road, that winds up and over the Rockies and the Continental Divide, dropping you on the other side of the park. It is both the most direct and most famous route from Estes Park on the east side of RMNP to Grand Lake on the west. It is also very beautiful.
As you can imagine, going up and over the mountains takes some doing. Mostly, they cut a road into the side of the mountains, so that when you drive it, you're hugging the mountain on one side and enjoying beautiful views on the other. The moment of mirth came at one such mountain-hugging moment. The road curved around to the right, disappearing around the side of the mountain. You could not have had a more clear right turn. And there it was. A sign, posted just before the curve, that said in bold, black letters, NO LEFT TURN.
Well, my family's sense of humor is such that we just burst out laughing. Really? A left turn off the cliff? Why would you even need to say that? We were in stitches, laughing so hard. It was perfect.
I love this, Haley Jo! It's so funny and the narrative progression of the story is well-organized. I like how you start with some background and essentially say that the story is going to be humorous. You then give some context for this specific trip, and then finally talk about the specific occasion, in all its hilarity. I also love the way you end it, almost seriously, in a way showing the bigger picture. I found myself transitioning from giggling to suddenly thinking, "Yeah, I can't really imagine anything better than funny family memories like this." Aside from how it took me a moment longer than it should have to figure out what RMNP stood for (which is my fault since you write it out three lines above), I have no suggestions for improvements. Great job!
DeleteI swayed back and forth on the bleachers, shifting my weight from foot to foot, attempting to warm myself up. My hands were dug deep into the pockets of the my dads jacket that he had graciously given to me when he saw me shivering. I looked over at Kate; she was wearing her Waynflete soccer sweatshirt and short spandex. She stared out onto the turf field cheering on her teammates. She had been on the rugby team for just a couple of weeks and so she spent most of the game on the sidelines. It came as a surprise when she had announced her new found activity; I had never seen a game of rugby and barely knew any rules. And so I stood shivering on the stands watching Kate’s teammates throw an oversized football up the field and try not to get tackled. I had no concept of what was happening on the field short of what I saw. I knew no ins and outs of the team, I couldn’t tell you if they were playing well or who was even the most dominant of players. How many times had I done this before? Too many to count at this point. Being freezing cold on the sidelines as the sun sets and I watch Kate play a sport that I don't understand is a feeling close to my heart. In elementary school it was her middle school games, in middle school I watched her varsity games and now, a junior and having played in all those middle school and high school games myself, I watch her for the first time compete at the collegiate level. It is the first time I am visiting her at Tufts and throughout the day I have had weird feelings swirling in my stomach as Kate shows me her new life. But now, as I watch Kate take the field, I am brought back to a familiar place and I realize that Kate will forever be my older sister that has a life just out of my reach and that I am completely in awe of and confused by.
ReplyDeleteA few years ago my parents gave me a budget and told me to plan a summer vacation. I immediately knew where we were going. A few months later we began the drive from Buxton, Maine to Sandusky, Ohio. We drove twelve hours to Cedar Point (“The Rollercoaster Capital of the World”), listening to the Hunger Games Trilogy (to avoid too much family bonding) and watching the endless fields of grapes zip past us. We spent the night in an overpriced hotel before driving the last ten minutes to our final destination. I was, by far, the most excited in the car. When we arrived, we were greeted by rain. Heavy rain. The rollercoasters were shut down and everyone in the never-ending line ran for cover. We stood in the rain for hours, the line gradually becoming shorter as the rain increased. Soon we were at the front of the line, only a few moments later the rain stopped completely. For hours it seemed like we had the whole park to ourselves. I couldn’t have asked for a better trip.
ReplyDeleteEmily, this is really cool! I really enjoyed reading about your family trip, and I think you described the road trip very well, with the audiobook playing while you look out the window. It' say feeling I can relate to very well, and you captured it wonderfully. I do have a couple of questions, though. Why Cedar Point? Do you really like roller coasters? If so, why? And, although I do know the feeling of standing in line through terrible weather, because I needed the context, I was confused. That's it, though. Good job!
DeleteThe wind whipped my hair out behind me. I only held on with one hand, in stark contrast to another memorable time when I was six and held on tightly with both hands, knuckles white with the effort. I could taste the salty air and shivered, because it was cold on the water, only to the next moment bask in the heat of the mid-morning sun. The motor droned on, punctuated every few seconds with the sound of the boat slapping the water. I looked over at my dad, and saw that he had pushed the throttle as far forward as it could go. He generally didn't go this fast. Usually one or both of the motors were broken, or we were just in the cove. Today we were racing miles across Penobscot Bay for lobsters from Little Deer Isle.
ReplyDeleteIt was only July 5th. I had the entire summer before me.
I really like this post, Anna! You did a great job of describing a feeling that a lot of people can relate to. I liked how after you described the physical feeling of the cold wind and the salty air and the noises of the boat, you ended it with an equally relatable emotional feeling. I liked the purely physical description, but ending with the more abstract description of freedom was a nice end to the post. I think you did a great job :)
DeleteI have kind of a weird extended family, as do most people. I have determined that everyone thinks that they have a really weird family because when you are with family you can be yourself (so everyone ultimately thinks you’re weird because we're all weird at heart). One time I was at my great-aunt’s 80th birthday celebration in Connecticut. Her birthday happens to be the same day as mine and that day I was turning 10, so I was talking to everyone there and getting all of the attention that I could. My uncle disappeared with my dad for awhile, and returned with a fish clenched between his fingers. We all ran over to see it and feels its slimy skin. They decided it would be good to eat, so my uncle began gutting and filleting the fish. We all watched in amazement as he dissected the once lively aquatic animal. My memory of this day is unclear, but the one moment that I do remember with perfect clarity is when he handed me the fish’s eyeball and told me to eat it...
ReplyDeleteWhen I was eight years old, my entire family took a trip to Scotland. We do this every few years as a type of family reunion, but we all live in Maine, so we see each other frequently. This trip was one that stuck in my mind, it was when I really started getting close with my extended family. When we landed in Scotland we got our bags, got our rental car, and headed over to Androssan, where we would catch the ferry over to the Isle of Arran. The ferry was always one of my favorite parts of the trip. There were comfy booths to sit in, and surprisingly delicious food to eat. I always got the mac and cheese. The boat came to a slow stop, and I knew that we had come ashore to one of the greatest places on earth.
ReplyDeleteThe kitchen was always busy back then at this time of night. My mom and dad would cut up meat, cooking pasta and throwing spices all over the place. I would come inside from a long day of playing and my mother would just point one stern finger at the sink, and I washed the cups and silverware singing some song I heard on the radio under my breath. Soon after I finished with the dishes, I would call as loudly as I could, “Boysss! Food's ready!!” And, my brothers would all run downstairs, feet rumbling out a beat that I knew so well. My dad would set out the red and yellow straw mat on the living-room floor and we would grab dishes and the prepared food to bring over and lay out. It was always a beautiful feast and we would make sure to wash our hands and say, “Bismillah,” before we began eating. Then we would dig in, eating with our hands and sitting cross-legged on the floor. The windows would be open in the summer, and it seemed the curtains moved themselves aside to let some of the sunset glow set in around our food. After our stomachs grew full and our plates were wiped clean, we would stand up gingerly, and all of us would pat our bellies and thank our Hooyo for the meal before going to wash our hands and mouths again. And, then we would pray. Saying words we knew we had to say because they felt right, and even though we didn't know what they meant, they were still meaningful.
ReplyDelete