Inside it is cold. I may need a sweater. The house smells
like pasta because mom is making lasagna. It is loud with Jaxson’s drumming
coming from upstairs and mom’s podcast of talk radio blaring from the kitchen. I
need silence. I walk through the glass back door with the dogs following close
behind. The air is wet and hot. But not hot enough to go back inside. It’s the
hot that makes you want to sit and wait for the Texas breeze that may never
come. The turquois lawn chair is warm on my soft, freshly shaved legs. It is a
relaxing place where all you hear is the faint sound of cars passing on the
other side of the house, and squirrels playing tag through the pear and oak
trees. The first squirrel runs to the fence and stops to wait for its friend.
Lucy spots the squirrel and darts to the fence to try to catch it. Both of the
playful squirrels run along the top of the fence in retreat. They jump on to
the pear tree just in time to miss being caught by the enthusiastic pup. She
then sees a huge white bird in the back, past the fence about half an acre, near
the wooded area.
The pool is glistening in the afternoon sun. At last a warm,
humid breeze comes through and causes a mass of tiny white flowers to fall into
the pool from the pear tree. This pear tree in particular is only half a tree.
In 2008 when hurricane Ike hit, a bolt of lightning hit the tree and took half
of it. The tree has grown immensely since then, but is still cut perfectly in
half. Every time I see that tree I think of the devastation on the island,
which is 25 minutes away. It has been seven years and there are still buildings
torn to pieces and overgrown boats that were washed up near the highway. Tookie’s,
one of the best burger joints, even has a painted line on the wall up to my
head where the water line was from the storm. I’m glad there hasn’t been a bad
hurricane since then. It would be terrible if there were one, but this community
is good at working together to get people back on their feet after losing
everything.
This place, my home in Texas, is 1,039 miles away now. I
miss it.
Hi Emily, I enjoyed your writing for this assignment. Not only did you create a world, but also a nostalgic feeling of "home." In this piece you began with what felt like a specific moment, or memory of this world, and a memory of an event that happened. You convey your world to us through the senses. The smell of pasta, the sound of drumming, the feeling of the hot, Texas air. Good Job!
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