Tight grip
Walking on to the plane, I looked for my seat: Seat A, Row 27. I watched the numbers pass by. Row 24. Row 25. Row 26. As I sat down in my seat I felt the vibrating of the plane under my legs. I felt my stomach drop. As I sat and waited for the rest of the passengers to board, stories of plane crashes ran through my head. I squeezed on to my sisters hand so hard that I saw the tips of her fingers had turned a plum purple color, but she didn’t complain. She knew how scared I was, and she was not about to tell me that she could not feel her fingers. I glared out of my small window when I heard her whisper something in my ear. “Didn’t anyone tell you?” “Tell me what?,” I responded. “We’re on a special plane! It is impossible for it to brake. Nothing bad can happen on this plane, so go to sleep Annie. Everything will be okay.” I slowly released her hand and cuddled up with her arm. Now I look back on that flight, and I remember how much I looked up to my sister. Though she was only eight, to me she was the strongest person I knew.
Uncategorized | Comment (1)Through the gap in the fence
There was always one place I could count on to be there for me. When my family became too loud, and all movement became a blur, there it was always there to protect me. It was my place to think and to enjoy the peace and quiet of being alone. Through the gap in the fence, and down the vine covered walkway, was my fortress. A small blue chair sat proudly, imbedded in the ground, and a small table made of boxes lay in front. Long stands of grass grew all around as if it was a wall, closing me off from the outside world. Dolls covered in grass and juice stains sat leaned up against the small wall behind the seat. Year after year of relying on this spot, the box table was torn and washed away, and the chair broke, and the dolls were carried away by cats. Although it is no longer the spot it used to be, sometimes I still go there and I am reminded of how it felt to be protected.
Uncategorized | Comment (1)The Game
We stood outside of the cheap, La Quinta hotel in
Sacramento with cheer leaders and nervous parents.
Tyler jumped around, but the rest of us stood silently. My stomach danced around inside of me, and I could only imagine how the team felt right now. We stepped up the stairs onto the bus. The seven of us sat on the cold grey hound bus; legs shaking with anticipation and “’Stangs to State” hats on. 400 miles away from home, all we cared about was being there for the team. The whole five minutes to the gym, I squeezed onto Emily’s hand until the tips were redder than her lips.
We were the only people in the
Marlborough cheering section, the seven of us. We stood proudly in a line, spelling “MUSTANGS” with our tee-shirts. I had never felt more proud to go to my school than when our teem won. As we ran down to greet the team, one of the parents said, “Maybe that will be you guys someday!” We looked around at each other and smiled. Nothing would make me happier than for that to be true.
The Sonenshein World
Thanksgiving was always a peaceful time for everyone except my family. Every year we take the long drive to my uncle’s huge valley house. The first step into their house meant leaving the real world, and entering the Sonenshein world. The warm house smells of strong wine and turkey. As I walk further in, a sea of family rushes at me. Uncles and Aunts kiss my cheeks and toddlers swarm around my knees. My family settles back into their seats, and babies are dropped into my arms. Walking into the kitchen, I see my uncle doing his infamous turkey dance and four toddlers laughing hysterically on the floor. As we sit down for dinner my head spins. Ten different conversations are going on and I am a part of all of them. My family’s theory is: If someone is talking at the same time as you, you should shout whatever you are trying to say at the person you are talking to in order be heard. This goes on exponentially until one of the babies wakes up and starts crying. At that point everyone quiets down, but then soon starts the process over again. Progressively thought out the night, bottles of wine are poured, and many glasses are finished. I sit back and realize how lucky I am have so many people who care about me, and who will be there for me. Some may call my family crazy, but I wouldn’t trade them for the world.
Uncategorized | Comment (1)Boarded Windows
The house stood tall, each window boarded up. “Why would they put boards on the windows?” I asked, “Are they trying to keep things out?” “Maybe they’re trying to keep something in,” my oldest cousin DJ replied. My grip tightened around my sister’s hand.
Being five, I was considerably smaller than my cousins and my sister, so all I could think about was the monster inside eating me first. I was the smallest, so I wouldn’t be able to run as fast. We continued inside. The rumors about this house being haunted made every step more thrilling than the last. As we walked through out the house, my cousin Jenny decided she was scared, and left to go home. I wanted to go with her, but I didn’t want them to think I was a chicken. I was going to be the five year old who wasn’t afraid of anything. We moved up the stairs, and as we stepped on each one, it would screech and creek until we moved on. We rounded the first corner upstairs, and DJ opened one of the doors. Rats, not expecting visitors, franticly scurried around and borrowed into holes. He quickly closed the door and we continued down the hallway. I looked around me. Tall, dark wooden walls surrounded me. When I looked back down, I noticed DJ and Julia were gone. “Oh no!” I thought, “The monster ate my family!” I walked a few steps forward, calling their names. All of a sudden, Jenny popped out from behind a corner. “BOO!” I screamed at the top of my lungs and ran. I ran all the way home. Still screaming. My cousins and my sister followed me. When we all got home, Jenny said, “We really got you, Anna!” “Nope,” I replied “I wasn’t really scared. I was just pretending.” I couldn’t give up my title as the five you old who isn’t afraid of anything now could I?
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Is Holden Trustworthy?
In The Catch in the Rye, Holden uses false statements things to reassure himself that he is okay. He has many ways of protecting himself from getting hurt by other people. One thing that Holden talks about is being healthy. Obviously he is not healthy if he is a heavy smoker and nearly got tuberculosis, but what Holden is doing by saying this, is making himself think that everything is okay. If he convinces himself that he is healthy and that nothing is wrong, he doesn’t have to think about his real feelings. Holden uses lies as a way of keeping people out. When someone is constantly lying, it is extremely hard to see who they really are. I think that he doesn’t want to let people in, partly because he doesn’t know how. He has been so closed off for so long, that he can’t let anyone in anymore. I do not see Holden as a trustworthy person. Someone who cannot even be honest with themselves will have a hard time being honest with everybody else.
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Night swimming
The hot Irvine sun beat down on our tired bodies all day. Our muscles ached, and all day the thought of a night swim in the deep, blue pool taunted us. We sprinted from the car into the elevator. My hands trembled with anticipation, and the look on Tyler’s face implied she felt the same way. The “ding” of the elevator sent us jolting into the apartment where we franticly dug through our bags in search of our bathing suits. All ready to go, we scurried out of the door, and just as it was about to close, I hear Tyler’s dad shout, “Be safe!” We ignored him, and continued out.
Running through the apartment buildings, the brisk night air sent shivers down my whole body. Tyler opened the gate and we ran in, threw our towels down, and jumped. Numbingly cold water rushed all around us. My head poked out of the glassy water before Tyler’s. I noticed a figure hiding in a bush behind the steel rods of the fence. A small flash appeared every few seconds. I whispered to Tyler, “That man is taking pictures of us. Go under water.” We filled our lungs as much as we could, and then hid at the bottom of the pool, when we emerged, the man had disappeared. Adrenalin ran through my body, and we hurried back to her apartment. As we entered, her dad asked, “How was it?”
“Fine,” we both said in unison, knowing that would be the last time we would go night swimming for a long time.
Uncategorized | Comment (1)Back when life was easy
Looking up at the my wall
I see her face
Smiling at me, wide eyed
And restless.
Next to her I stand.
Squeezing her hand in mine.
Light reflects off the glossy paper
Illuminating our faces.
Back when we were six.
Back when life was easy.
She followed me to basketball
I followed her to art camp
I taught her to swim
She never let me sink
Looking at this photo
I see my other half
Who knew?
Who knew that two halves
Could be so different
Night and day
Fire and ice
Summer was our time.
Popsicles dripping
Down our chins
And staining our shirts.
Sidewalk tag
With the kids on the block
And time.
Time to just walk.
Walk for hours
And just be.
Arms linked tight
We would walk.
In all the years
That she has been in my life
We’ve grown differently.
I’m taller, she’s funnier.
I’m loud, she’s creative.
But when we are together,
It’s like nothing has changed.
It still feels like
Back when we were six.
Back when life was easy.
Uncategorized | Comment (1)My run
When my dad told me, I was doing my homework. As the words spilled out of his mouth, the led at the tip of my pencil snapped and rolled off of table. A woman that had been such an important part of my life was now gone. I felt helpless. All I could o was run. Out the door and across the grass I ran. Blood colored leaves crunched under m feet as they pounded against the pavement. All of the colors around me blurred together like a tie-dyed shirt, and all of the sounds faded away until the only thing I heard was the pounding of my feet. My face dripped with tears and my eyes stung with sweat. I ended up outside my friend’s house. Walking p to the door, I thought of what I could say to her. Saying that I was sorry didn’t seem good enough. She answered the door. Her eyes were swollen with tears, and her cheeks were as white as a piece of paper. I realized that I didn’t have to say a thing. She fell into my arms and her whole body shook like her heart was the center of an earthquake. All I could do was hug her. Words no longer had a point.
Uncategorized | Comment (1)Patience
When I watch the rest of the team run, a serge of guilt rushes through my whole body. The feeling of being so close to them, and not being a part of what they are doing is just as painful as it would be to play. All of my doctors told me that sitting out for six weeks would not be difficult because I would be able to go the practices and watch everyone else play. That sounded great, until I realized it only showed me all of the things I could not do. They all say how lucky I am because I don’t have to run, but I would give anything to be able to do what they don’t want to do. It seems that every time I go back to the doctor they tell me I can’t play for even longer, and each time I have to try harder and harder not to kick them. People talk about it like its no big deal, like it doesn’t matter. They just don’t understand that one of the most important things to me has been taken away from me. All I can do is wait, and patience is not my strong point.
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