"The Keys".

Essay by healwaysliedCollege, UndergraduateA+, November 2003

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"Here are the keys to your brand new Acura... Enjoy." These words still echo through my mind. When those keys were placed in my hand exactly a month after my seventeenth birthday, I knew this would alter everything going on in my life. From that day on, I knew the screaming and crying would finally come to an end.

My keys are on a smooth, round, silver loop connecting two shiny, sharp, hard, thin strips which sort of have teeth. In addition, the loop connects a gray box that's rough to the touch from being dropped on the ground several times. It has soft triangular-shaped buttons that control the locking and unlocking of the doors to my car. When I am driving there is a distinct and incessant clinking of the keys, as they knock into one another over and over.

The keys I possess have entirely become the reason for my serenity and the tranquility that now exists at home.

For this to make sense, you must have an understanding of the relationship between my father and I. Endlessly arguing with my father has become a battle I have been fighting for years, and I never seem to win. For example, one afternoon he might order me to wash the dishes or clean my room. If I forget or do not have time, he will nag me until I complete the chore. Then it begins, and we go back and forth. I would calmly tell him to leave me alone and he would sarcastically retort: "Oh and I suppose when you get married your husband is going to do all the chores around the house? He's going to cook and clean and take care of everything for you? You never do anything around here, you're useless and...