One Of Those Memories

Things don't always with warning. In fact in most cases to something dramatic there is no warning at all. That's part of what makes it dramatic. last spring break I ventured to Arizona to visit my grandparents in the town of Mesa. I had been there before , but never by myself; it was always with my parents or sister. one day three of the trip I drove them to the mountains, to a place called Tortilla Flats. i place where a massive lake has formed in desertous hills. At that time of the year the flowers are in full bloom and just smelling the air around you is overwhelming. I'll never forget this day. It's one of those memories you hang onto for ever and the images are burned into the back of your eye lids like tattoos. 

The Lunch Room

In my grade schol we had a very large cafeteria. The name of the school is St. Marks. Nine years of my life were spent at that school and even today it feels like home to me. My favorite place in the entire school besides the library was the "lunch room" as we called it. Every day at about 11:15 am we would leave class to go outside and at 11:45 am it was time for lunch. Class by class, with hunger written on our faces, we would walk downstairs away from the blinding sun and through the dark stairwell with bad lighting and into the lunch room. No windows, just lights, tables, and chairs. On the walls kids parents had painted scenes from famous childrens books such as where the wild things live and the little engine that could. For the past year I have coached the seventh and eighth grade boys baseball team at St. marks. I enjoy teaching the kids not only how to play baseball but also how to be good, responsible human beings. During the spring when there's still cold whether outside we practice in the gym and have to walk through the lunch room to get there. Everytime I walk into that room I remember the nine years of being there and think about how much I miss it and what it means to me.

The Garage Door

When I was younger I spent amounts of time in my backyard. Year around, day and night, rain or shine, I would be there. one reason I loved the backyard is because it led into our garage and mostly anything fun I could do came from the garage, such as my bike and toys etc... My favorite thing in the garage however was an old croquet mallet. So one particular evening in late January my younger sister and I decided to go outside just as it was starting to get dark. When we made it across the yard I found the garage door to be locked which  brought much distress. For some strange reason I had my croquet mallet with me  and after pondering my options I began beating on the door furiously with the mallet breaking its window pains and the lock. Later that night my parents found out and I never saw the mallet again. Looking back it seems it would have been so much easier to ask my mom to simply unlock the door, but the again I was only six...