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conuly
I like most of my essay, but the last paragraph kinda sucks. Help?
I’m trapped in memories. I can close my eyes, and clearly see the street in the summer, with the sun glittering on the pavement. I walked with my sister, eating an italian ice. I always had lemon. Daddy was far ahead of us, walking quickly so that he could get into the shade faster. The sun was right in front of me, I was blinded, but it was bright-blindness, everything glaring in my eyes. Sunny, and hot, and bright.
It was very nearly as hot, and muggy, at night. We lived on 18th Avenue then. On the 4th of July we all went up onto the roof, and ate watermelon, and watched the fireworks. I loved it up there, and loved watching the patterns. I even loved feeling the fireworks booming, right through my bones. It was dark out, and I shouldn’t have been able to see, but every time the fireworks would go off, it would be bright, brilliant. I was scared, they were so close, so I eventually went inside to comfort the dog. It wasn’t my roof with all those people up there anyway.
Some summers, we went to Belgium to visit “the cousins”. Some of “the cousins” are great-great-aunts, or the children of the sisters of the wives of people who are actually related to me, but it’s easier than saying “the relatives”. My Bonnemaman had a little bit of land, with a patch of woods, and berries, and fruits, and roses. All day long I’d run along with my sister, and pick the currents, and steal the strawberries, and go just far enough into the woods to get scared. And then we’d go back inside, and eat soup, and drink tea, and go to bed. It gets dark late up there in the summer, as late as 10.
I used to always sleep in the same bed as my sister growing up. I liked to be close to her, and she was scared of the dark. In Belgium, we had two beds that were pushed together. Jenn is so pale, it is not to be believed. We have a picture of her as a toddler, standing in the sun, looking like a plaster statue. One night in Belgium I woke up, looked at her, and brought my grandparents upstairs with my screams. I thought she’d turned into a vampire as I slept.
Summer would finally end, and we’d go home, start school. All those Halloweens we had! We’d take a very circuitous trip home from school, and stop by every single house, and collect candy. When we got home, we’d rest up and prepare to go out again when it got dark.
Night-time trick-or-treating was different, and more fun. We wouldn’t go to houses, we’d go to storefronts, and because the people in stores change shifts we’d go to the same stores over and over again. It was a bad year if we couldn’t amass enough candy to hold us through until Christmas. Of course, it helped that Grand would send us boxes of candy for all the trick-or-treaters who never rang our doorbell!
My family didn’t go in much for traditions, I think – at least, not holiday ones. For years, my wake-up tradition was the same. I would be coaxed out of bed by Daddy, who was a morning person and very fond of singing off-key. As soon as I’d left my bed, I’d go snuggle with my mom on her bed and sleep a while longer. When I finally woke up, I’d join in the game of “convincing mommy that she’s overslept.” And I’d eat, and get sent to school. I didn’t especially like school, but it was much more interesting than staying home all day, so I went.
After my father died, I spent a month with my sister just sleeping with my mom. We needed to be close. I eventually ended this. I don’t remember why. I just couldn’t take sharing a bed with either of them anymore. A few days after I went back to my own bed, Jenn followed. It wasn’t very long after that when I retreated all the way to the attic at night just to get away from their noise. I used to spend nights listening to the rain on the roof in the attic. It was louder than my family, certainly, but it never seemed as loud.
The summer of the sixth grade, my schedule completely fell apart. I would wake up at about 1pm, and stay awake until dawn. One night I even visited my friend Alexis-down-the-block at 1am to go swimming in her pool. She was up already, and I just came over. I liked the feeling of being alone outside and watching the sunrise, so I had no reason to change back to a normal schedule. That schedule was only slightly worse than the one I came up with in high school. Then I was up for eight hours, asleep for four hours, awake again for eight hours, asleep for four hours. I think I did this so I could be on the computer more, but I’m not sure. I remember a lot, but not always what I want.
I hereby swear that this is my work.
Constance Evangeline Baker
I’m trapped in memories. I can close my eyes, and clearly see the street in the summer, with the sun glittering on the pavement. I walked with my sister, eating an italian ice. I always had lemon. Daddy was far ahead of us, walking quickly so that he could get into the shade faster. The sun was right in front of me, I was blinded, but it was bright-blindness, everything glaring in my eyes. Sunny, and hot, and bright.
It was very nearly as hot, and muggy, at night. We lived on 18th Avenue then. On the 4th of July we all went up onto the roof, and ate watermelon, and watched the fireworks. I loved it up there, and loved watching the patterns. I even loved feeling the fireworks booming, right through my bones. It was dark out, and I shouldn’t have been able to see, but every time the fireworks would go off, it would be bright, brilliant. I was scared, they were so close, so I eventually went inside to comfort the dog. It wasn’t my roof with all those people up there anyway.
Some summers, we went to Belgium to visit “the cousins”. Some of “the cousins” are great-great-aunts, or the children of the sisters of the wives of people who are actually related to me, but it’s easier than saying “the relatives”. My Bonnemaman had a little bit of land, with a patch of woods, and berries, and fruits, and roses. All day long I’d run along with my sister, and pick the currents, and steal the strawberries, and go just far enough into the woods to get scared. And then we’d go back inside, and eat soup, and drink tea, and go to bed. It gets dark late up there in the summer, as late as 10.
I used to always sleep in the same bed as my sister growing up. I liked to be close to her, and she was scared of the dark. In Belgium, we had two beds that were pushed together. Jenn is so pale, it is not to be believed. We have a picture of her as a toddler, standing in the sun, looking like a plaster statue. One night in Belgium I woke up, looked at her, and brought my grandparents upstairs with my screams. I thought she’d turned into a vampire as I slept.
Summer would finally end, and we’d go home, start school. All those Halloweens we had! We’d take a very circuitous trip home from school, and stop by every single house, and collect candy. When we got home, we’d rest up and prepare to go out again when it got dark.
Night-time trick-or-treating was different, and more fun. We wouldn’t go to houses, we’d go to storefronts, and because the people in stores change shifts we’d go to the same stores over and over again. It was a bad year if we couldn’t amass enough candy to hold us through until Christmas. Of course, it helped that Grand would send us boxes of candy for all the trick-or-treaters who never rang our doorbell!
My family didn’t go in much for traditions, I think – at least, not holiday ones. For years, my wake-up tradition was the same. I would be coaxed out of bed by Daddy, who was a morning person and very fond of singing off-key. As soon as I’d left my bed, I’d go snuggle with my mom on her bed and sleep a while longer. When I finally woke up, I’d join in the game of “convincing mommy that she’s overslept.” And I’d eat, and get sent to school. I didn’t especially like school, but it was much more interesting than staying home all day, so I went.
After my father died, I spent a month with my sister just sleeping with my mom. We needed to be close. I eventually ended this. I don’t remember why. I just couldn’t take sharing a bed with either of them anymore. A few days after I went back to my own bed, Jenn followed. It wasn’t very long after that when I retreated all the way to the attic at night just to get away from their noise. I used to spend nights listening to the rain on the roof in the attic. It was louder than my family, certainly, but it never seemed as loud.
The summer of the sixth grade, my schedule completely fell apart. I would wake up at about 1pm, and stay awake until dawn. One night I even visited my friend Alexis-down-the-block at 1am to go swimming in her pool. She was up already, and I just came over. I liked the feeling of being alone outside and watching the sunrise, so I had no reason to change back to a normal schedule. That schedule was only slightly worse than the one I came up with in high school. Then I was up for eight hours, asleep for four hours, awake again for eight hours, asleep for four hours. I think I did this so I could be on the computer more, but I’m not sure. I remember a lot, but not always what I want.
I hereby swear that this is my work.
Constance Evangeline Baker
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Date: 2004-10-28 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-28 09:16 pm (UTC)