Memorable
Seperated
Snow flurries fall, but I know that it will not stick on the green- brown grass. The sky is a flat grey, layered with thick clouds. I feel overwhelmed by my life. As I sit in my room, my parents yell at each other in the living room. Once again I slip into my memories.
The rain pours outside, the leaden sky flashing with lightening. I am 7. While my mom is in the kitchen making me lunch, I go upstairs. Down the hallway I creep before sneaking into my parents room. I slip behind the seldom used ironing board and climb over a box of clothes. I stick my head between the cheap plastic blinds and the window. If I stand on my tiptoes, I can see out of the spotted glass. Beyond the fence of my yard, across the canyon, I can see a small waterfall. During heavy rains, the water would fall over a tiny ledge in the canyon wall and make a barely visible waterfall. I always try to come up here and see it. I thought it was my own little miracle, a secret happiness, watching that little trickle of water in a thunderstorm.
I am jolted back to the present by mom screaming "Get the hell out!!" I hear my dad's heavy footsteps, the sound of a winter coat being pulled on, and then the door slams and the truck pulls out of the driveway. In the absence of my father, I hear loud sobbing from my mom. I sigh. I'd best stay up here for a while.
The rain pours outside, the leaden sky flashing with lightening. I am 7. While my mom is in the kitchen making me lunch, I go upstairs. Down the hallway I creep before sneaking into my parents room. I slip behind the seldom used ironing board and climb over a box of clothes. I stick my head between the cheap plastic blinds and the window. If I stand on my tiptoes, I can see out of the spotted glass. Beyond the fence of my yard, across the canyon, I can see a small waterfall. During heavy rains, the water would fall over a tiny ledge in the canyon wall and make a barely visible waterfall. I always try to come up here and see it. I thought it was my own little miracle, a secret happiness, watching that little trickle of water in a thunderstorm.
I am jolted back to the present by mom screaming "Get the hell out!!" I hear my dad's heavy footsteps, the sound of a winter coat being pulled on, and then the door slams and the truck pulls out of the driveway. In the absence of my father, I hear loud sobbing from my mom. I sigh. I'd best stay up here for a while.