Behind my grandparents home, there was a steep hill leading up to my uncle’s home. Every morning, after eating breakfast, I would climb up this hill to get to my uncle’s house. It was a challenge to climb it. The hill was filled with monstrous prickly-bodied cacti. These cacti were three times bigger and wider than me. I remember seeing these cacti as malicious giants trying to catch me. I would sprint up this hill, making my way around every giant cacti, making sure none would actually “catch” me because everywhere I turned there was a giant struggling to grab at me. Eventually, when I made my way up to the top, it was a huge success to look down a...
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...was. I was absolutely embarrassed. By the time I got out of the shower, everybody who lived on the ranch knew about my struggle against death. They all thought it was hilarious that I had overreacted while sitting in a puddle of mud. As I had guessed, the rest of this vacation was a struggle. I ended up with ruined clothes and a story nobody forgot. My grandfather, being 93 years old, still remembers to this day and tells this story to anybody who comes his way, even 10 years after the incident. I became famous on the ranch since the story seemed to be told everywhere I went. At every family gathering the story was told, but the people telling the story will never understand the struggle I went through. I became known as the girl who thought mud was a monster. That trip was the last trip I took to Mexico. My imagination took me to a place nobody could understand.
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