Essay by suicidequeen September 2004

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Home Sweet Home

I was about ten years old and full of curiosity and energy. I grabbed my favorite red converse shoes that were so tattered from the many days of playing outside. I tucked my shoes under my arm and ran out the backdoor up the grassy hill toward the cemetery barefoot.

Once I got to the top of the hill I could feel the wind getting stronger as it blew my hair across my face toward the west. Hearing the crows caw as I walked through the damp dirt path smelling the mud that was squeezing between my toes. Looking down I hear a small bullfrog splash into a shallow puddle that was filled with little black tadpoles. Slipping on my red converse shoes, I jump over the tadpole puddle that was blocking my path to my favorite place.

Finally, I reach the black pavement and feeling the warmth from the asphalt sink into my skin.

I look down at that long narrow winding road. As I continued down the side of the road, stopping every now and then to pick a yellow dandelion that was growing in the tall grass that ran beside the black top. Holding the dandelion I pulled the yellow top of the flower off and rubbed it onto my arm till it stained my skin yellow. Giggling to myself as I admired the yellow mark on my left arm.

Soon I came upon an opening between the tall oak trees that covered the old worn down gravestones of people's loved ones that had passed on. There she stood strong yet peaceful from way up on the mountain, the City of Charleston. What a wonderful spotlight the setting sun shun down on the city. The pink, orange, and yellow rays illuminated the tall serious...