The place I moved too when I was two. The place I have played countless hours with my big sister, Anna, and good friends. The place I live in, the place I love. Not many things are mine in life. The T.V., the computer, the hammock, the backyard, and the family dog, Daisy, are all not mine. My room is a different story. Anna and I used to share a room. But when I was about six, Anna begged for her own room, and I encouraged her. Anna moved into a little room down the hall. I got our big, wide room with my very own bed, my own walk in closet, my own couch, my own desk, and my own shelf, all to myself! I felt very grown up. I told my entire class, all my relatives, and even some people I didn’t know! I can remember trying to run away at night, just to see if I could. Crawling, tip-toeing, and snaking my way through what seemed like an active battlefield. Every time, it ended the same way. ”Honey, get back in bed”, my mom would order, drowsily. “Okay,” I’d mumble, and inch back to bed. Then, once the coast was clear, I’d hop back up, and try again. Anna and I would often play Barbie’s together. We’d have tea parties, hold fashion shows, go on shopping sprees, and sometimes even have Barbie Olympics. Anna always made sure that she won everything, even the tea parties! I can remember my Mom kissing me goodnight, and my Dad reading me goodnight moon every night. I can remember closing my eyes and going to sleep. I can remember waking up to a brand new day. My room holds many memories. But even when I grow up, or if I ever moved away, my room will continue to hold all those memories just the same. In my heart.
When I was one I could not walk, but I could talk and read. I had a joyful time in my stroller, I thought I could ride in it forever, but what I didn’t know was that I couldn’t ride in it forever. Six months later I got a surprise when my parents told me ” You’re old enough to walk places instead of riding in your stroller.” At first I freaked out about learning to walk. So I frantically crawled into my room and into my bed. But soon my parents got me out of my room and outside. But then my parents figured that we should try inside first. Back in the apartment living room my parents guided me across the room telling me to step one foot in front of another, then they said ” Try it by yourself!” So I put one foot in front of another and I fell down. My parents then helped me back up, so then I put one foot in front of the other but I fell down, my parents once again helped me back up to my feet, I put one foot in front of me then the other and the other then…. I knew I was walking! Joy went through my entire body, my parents busted with excitement I then yelled ” I can walk!” We then strode over to Jamison square. We then got hot dogs and went home. We now walk all over town today. We will still walk all over town from this day on. Even though I still fall down a lot.
Once you learn how to bike you remember it the rest of your life. Other things in life are also like that including algebra. It’s impossible to believe that when you’re learning it.
It was a scorching hot summer day; my mom was strolling along my bike in her hands. I was trotting along side her occasionally jogging to catch up her legs being a lot longer. I would be exhausting my smaller legs today, a lot today.
When we arrived at the dusty grass deprived back field of Chapman my heart was pounding 100 miles per hour. Sure I was eager to learn how to ride a bike but I was terrified at the idea of wiping out.
My best run that day was on the back field. I was biking on my red flamed Novara around and around the field, wind gushing through my hair reliving my body from the hot summer day. Then I was going down. I couldn’t prevent it. I turned in a circle then another tighter circle. They kept getting tighter a tighter till I smacked the ground, hard.
“That will make a good video,” my mom remarked holding up the video camera. “I know what I’ll send it to grandma and grandpa.” She said has her face lit up.
“Mommy please don’t send it to grandma and grandpa.” I begged her, “I don’t want them to see me fall.”
“Don’t worry.” She said under her breath smirking. “I will.”
As I walked away from the park, my mom beside me I had a good feeling that I just added one more thing to my knowledge. My mom also got something out of it, a chance to embarrass me
It’s a place where I, my brother, and mom humbly sit at night well munching slowly but quickly at the same time. It’s my kitchen table where lots of things have been made, and still much more to come.
Warm crisp home made cookies with chocolate chips on top sitting one by one. Warm chicken noodle soup served to me in a bowl when I am sick in bed. Steak dinners with light salted corn and buttery potatoes. Breakfast maple syrup pancakes with tiny slices of red ruby colored strawberries on top. “The things I make sound oh so tasty.”
My kitchen table is a light oaky color. It has potential value that can never be forgotten or lost. My kitchen table is a just right spot for anything, and still much more to come.
Sometimes when I get bored I crank up the radio volume to full blast, hop up on the kitchen table and dance and sing around for almost an hour while no buddies home. When I am up on the kitchen table I feel like I can do what ever I would like. It’s a place for nothing but fun to be had (or made). “My impression of fun is to do what ever I please when ever I want and then I am perfectly happy.
My kitchen table is a place that food will always be made and help me grow in a way that I just can’t explain. Many more things will be made or eaten by or near my kitchen table in my home. And as I will always remember the clinking and tapping of the utensils on the brass colored plate, I will never forget the sound in my head where it will always stay. By: Emma Jean Williams
Room 23 Personal Narrative “Whoa!” I stuttered, gliding across the slick trampoline, almost over the edge. “Back, slowly, slowly.” I said with fear in my voice. “I’ve got to be more careful!” I leaned down on the black fabric, exhausted from my very close encounter with the ground. I listened to the leaves rustling in the wind, and heard a little blue jay sing his song. “How is it they fly?” I asked aloud, sending my brain into overdrive. Since it didn’t announce itself, I decided to try and find out. I began to bounce, climbing higher and higher each time. After a few minutes, I began to feel like I was flying, soaring, even, through the air. I fell back down again, but as I sprang back up, I slipped. I jumped right back up, seething with rage at myself for slipping after bouncing so high. Thankfully, I calmed down quickly. I persistently started to jump again, but being a lot more careful this time. “Woof” Barked the annoying dog next door. “Woof woof!” “Quiet dog!” I shouted. “What are you doing, singing a Christmas Carol?” I flopped down on the trampoline, looking very annoyed to anyone who would have enough bad fortune to pass me. I lay down, hoping for the agony to end, when I heard a car horn. Was it possibly? Were they leaving? I didn’t dare look, but after hearing the noise of crunching gravel, it was irresistible. I turned around and gazed at the van, their mutt in the backseat. I almost did a back flip, regardless of not knowing how to. Finally, peace, quiet, serenity and…boredom. Without that dog there, I was bored. Now, how was I supposed to entertain myself until I had to go inside? I was SOOO bored! The answer hit me like a lightning bolt. It was SOOO simple! I would just go inside and pl- Wait. That was a HORRIBLE idea! Suddenly, the black trampoline didn’t sound so bad! I got back up and bounced once again. “It’s Bounce Time.”
My Own Bit of the Universe
ReplyDeleteBy Rose 11-8-10
The place I moved too when I was two. The place I have played countless hours with my big sister, Anna, and good friends. The place I live in, the place I love.
Not many things are mine in life. The T.V., the computer, the hammock, the backyard, and the family dog, Daisy, are all not mine. My room is a different story.
Anna and I used to share a room. But when I was about six, Anna begged for her own room, and I encouraged her. Anna moved into a little room down the hall. I got our big, wide room with my very own bed, my own walk in closet, my own couch, my own desk, and my own shelf, all to myself! I felt very grown up. I told my entire class, all my relatives, and even some people I didn’t know!
I can remember trying to run away at night, just to see if I could. Crawling, tip-toeing, and snaking my way through what seemed like an active battlefield. Every time, it ended the same way. ”Honey, get back in bed”, my mom would order, drowsily. “Okay,” I’d mumble, and inch back to bed. Then, once the coast was clear, I’d hop back up, and try again.
Anna and I would often play Barbie’s together. We’d have tea parties, hold fashion shows, go on shopping sprees, and sometimes even have Barbie Olympics. Anna always made sure that she won everything, even the tea parties!
I can remember my Mom kissing me goodnight, and my Dad reading me goodnight moon every night. I can remember closing my eyes and going to sleep. I can remember waking up to a brand new day.
My room holds many memories. But even when I grow up, or if I ever moved away, my room will continue to hold all those memories just the same. In my heart.
When I Learned To Walk
ReplyDeleteBy Aidan
When I was one I could not walk, but I could talk and read. I had a joyful time in my stroller, I thought I could ride in it forever, but what I didn’t know was that I couldn’t ride in it forever.
Six months later I got a surprise when my parents told me
” You’re old enough to walk places instead of riding in your stroller.” At first I freaked out about learning to walk. So I frantically crawled into my room and into my bed. But soon my parents got me out of my room and outside. But then my parents figured that we should try inside first.
Back in the apartment living room my parents guided me across the room telling me to step one foot in front of another, then they said
” Try it by yourself!”
So I put one foot in front of another and I fell down. My parents then helped me back up, so then I put one foot in front of the other but I fell down, my parents once again helped me back up to my feet, I put one foot in front of me then the other and the other then…. I knew I was walking! Joy went through my entire body, my parents busted with excitement I then yelled
” I can walk!” We then strode over to Jamison square. We then got hot dogs and went home.
We now walk all over town today. We will still walk all over town from this day on. Even though I still fall down a lot.
Bike Riding
ReplyDeleteOnce you learn how to bike you remember it the rest of your life. Other things in life are also like that including algebra. It’s impossible to believe that when you’re learning it.
It was a scorching hot summer day; my mom was strolling along my bike in her hands. I was trotting along side her occasionally jogging to catch up her legs being a lot longer. I would be exhausting my smaller legs today, a lot today.
When we arrived at the dusty grass deprived back field of Chapman my heart was pounding 100 miles per hour. Sure I was eager to learn how to ride a bike but I was terrified at the idea of wiping out.
My best run that day was on the back field. I was biking on my red flamed Novara around and around the field, wind gushing through my hair reliving my body from the hot summer day. Then I was going down. I couldn’t prevent it. I turned in a circle then another tighter circle. They kept getting tighter a tighter till I smacked the ground, hard.
“That will make a good video,” my mom remarked holding up the video camera. “I know what I’ll send it to grandma and grandpa.” She said has her face lit up.
“Mommy please don’t send it to grandma and grandpa.” I begged her, “I don’t want them to see me fall.”
“Don’t worry.” She said under her breath smirking. “I will.”
As I walked away from the park, my mom beside me I had a good feeling that I just added one more thing to my knowledge. My mom also got something out of it, a chance to embarrass me
My Special Place
ReplyDeleteIt’s a place where I, my brother, and mom humbly sit at night well munching slowly but quickly at the same time. It’s my kitchen table where lots of things have been made, and still much more to come.
Warm crisp home made cookies with chocolate chips on top sitting one by one. Warm chicken noodle soup served to me in a bowl when I am sick in bed. Steak dinners with light salted corn and buttery potatoes. Breakfast maple syrup pancakes with tiny slices of red ruby colored strawberries on top. “The things I make sound oh so tasty.”
My kitchen table is a light oaky color. It has potential value that can never be forgotten or lost. My kitchen table is a just right spot for anything, and still much more to come.
Sometimes when I get bored I crank up the radio volume to full blast, hop up on the kitchen table and dance and sing around for almost an hour while no buddies home. When I am up on the kitchen table I feel like I can do what ever I would like. It’s a place for nothing but fun to be had (or made). “My impression of fun is to do what ever I please when ever I want and then I am perfectly happy.
My kitchen table is a place that food will always be made and help me grow in a way that I just can’t explain. Many more things will be made or eaten by or near my kitchen table in my home. And as I will always remember the clinking and tapping of the utensils on the brass colored plate, I will never forget the sound in my head where it will always stay.
By: Emma Jean Williams
Room 23 Personal Narrative “Whoa!” I stuttered, gliding across the slick trampoline, almost over the edge. “Back, slowly, slowly.” I said with fear in my voice. “I’ve got to be more careful!”
ReplyDeleteI leaned down on the black fabric, exhausted from my very close encounter with the ground. I listened to the leaves rustling in the wind, and heard a little blue jay sing his song. “How is it they fly?” I asked aloud, sending my brain into overdrive. Since it didn’t announce itself, I decided to try and find out.
I began to bounce, climbing higher and higher each time. After a few minutes, I began to feel like I was flying, soaring, even, through the air. I fell back down again, but as I sprang back up, I slipped. I jumped right back up, seething with rage at myself for slipping after bouncing so high. Thankfully, I calmed down quickly. I persistently started to jump again, but being a lot more careful this time.
“Woof” Barked the annoying dog next door. “Woof woof!”
“Quiet dog!” I shouted. “What are you doing, singing a Christmas Carol?”
I flopped down on the trampoline, looking very annoyed to anyone who would have enough bad fortune to pass me. I lay down, hoping for the agony to end, when I heard a car horn. Was it possibly? Were they leaving? I didn’t dare look, but after hearing the noise of crunching gravel, it was irresistible. I turned around and gazed at the van, their mutt in the backseat. I almost did a back flip, regardless of not knowing how to. Finally, peace, quiet, serenity and…boredom. Without that dog there, I was bored. Now, how was I supposed to entertain myself until I had to go inside? I was SOOO bored!
The answer hit me like a lightning bolt. It was SOOO simple! I would just go inside and pl- Wait. That was a HORRIBLE idea! Suddenly, the black trampoline didn’t sound so bad! I got back up and bounced once again.
“It’s Bounce Time.”