Here is a short writing I did for my Honor's English class sophomore year of high school. It's a good snapshot of my childhood and really helps show a little bit of how I grew up. I don't know why, but I am very proud of it. It's not long, or deep, or really all that great, but it is sweet!

Seasons of the Past

The night is cool and the stars are bright and clear. A small figure walks aimlessly in the grass, flicking a flashlight through the trees. The searching beam hits the silent leaves and then swings up towards the sky, disappearing into the vastness of space. A slight breeze stirs the dry air. The light swirls back to the ground and moves away. The darkened silhouette walks into the glow of a nearby yard light and transforms into a little boy. His face is scrunched in frustration, but quickly vanishes into the shadows as he continues in another direction. A cricket chirp breaks the still air only to be silenced by an abrupt movement in the underbrush. A small body shoots up from a pile of leaves and streaks barefoot across the grass, letting out a joyous shriek. After reaching an old tree, the figure stops and a little girl’s voice can be heard shouting, singing, calling. The flashlight beam soon reappears, bouncing along the ground. The boy approaches the dancing girl, and after conferring for a moment, the two children lie down in the grass to take a rest from their demanding game.

It is winter and the girl is bundled tightly in many layers of coats and pants. She pushes through the thick snow, leaving a small twisting line behind her. A thin rope is wrapped around her mittens and trails down to a small sled, which bounces at the heels of her new snow boots. A gray sky looms over the bare, stark trees, warning of more snow. The crunching footsteps stop as the girl pulls the sled up to a large rock outcropping dripping with twinkling icicles. She grasps the largest one between her tiny hands and pulls hard. There is a large cracking noise as the girl and the icicle tumble into the snow. She rolls up onto her knees and places the beautiful spear into her sled. After collecting a few more icicles, she knows the winter season can successfully live on in the refrigerator.

Spring has come and the two children have their hands full with shovels, rakes, and seed packets. They carry the tools into a small clearing of cedar trees and drop them with a metallic clatter. Without a word, they split up the tools and get to work. Two shovels pick at the scraggly, thorny ground covering, but both are quickly tossed aside and replaced with rough, dirty hands. A few handfuls of dirt are “accidentally” thrown in the wrong direction and a mud fight breaks out. Giggles float through the air as fresh earth finds its way down shirts and into hair. When the sun begins to set, the ground is not cleared and ready for a garden, but the two dirty, tired children are happy. The garden has been forgotten anyway, as they are already dreaming of what they will do tomorrow. The two young children are both unsure of what lies ahead for them in the future, but they figure they can make it up one day at a time. Neither one really wanted to grow carrots or peas anyway.

ouch! :: be good