Personal Narrative: My Day

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The light from the sun reflects off the pure white wall, illuminating the room. The dust floats, undisturbed by the empty house. This is what I see as I launch myself out the door, into the hot summer air, into the sounds of playing children. I was four, I was carefree, I was full of life. Outside, we were free to do anything. My cousins, sister, and I could do whatever we wanted. The thoughts slipped through my mind, quick as a flowing river, and I did not have a care to catch it. All I was thinking about was a way to satisfy my immense and never ending curiosity. As my feet stepped onto the warm cement road where my cousin Isaiah was crouching and inspecting the ground, I asked him, “Hey, what’d yah find?” Prodding the rubber asphalt that filled the old cracks of the road, he looked at me and seemed amused at his discovery. “The road…” he paused dramatically, “It’s squishy.” He says this, looking as though he has found the best idea in the world. I’m amazed by this discovery too. Squatting down, I poke at the asphalt with my finger, leaving an imprint of my finger that slowly pushes back to its original shape. I laugh, the feeling of it is curiously addicting. The rubber feels like bouncy play-doh, pushing back against my fingers. Isaiah and I are hooked. We spend all day experimenting. We put ants on it. We put grass on it. We see who can pull off parts of it. As the sun shines harshly through the clear Wisconsin sky, I resolved that it was too hot to continue. “Isaiah,” I say, wiping the sweat off my forehead, “It’s too hot, I’m gonna go inside.” He stands up, brushing off his pants. “Okay, we can play tomorrow.” We both say our goodbyes and tramp to our side of the duplex that our families live in. Entering fr... ... middle of paper ... ...e ball bouncing off my racquet, the thrill of a great hit, it made me love tennis. My mind stopped wandering as Jon hit the ball back. Accidently, instead of hitting the ball with my racquet, my free hand catches it. Jon laughs. “Oops.” I say, grinning. The rest of practice goes on, and at the end of the day, we depart for home. The memory fades as I sit down in the bus, looking out the window at the Minnesota sky. I brush my eyes awake, feeling the cold seeping in from my window. It’s 9 AM and it’s winter in Minnesota. Feeling sleepy, I stand up and go outside. I love the winter air. It always refreshes my mind and there’s just a cold bite to it that I enjoy. Coming back inside, I boot up my computer, hoping to enjoy it a little before heading out. The winter days swim together, phasing throughout my mind, and I fall asleep again, or I have woken up.

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