In English, we were asked to base our first essay on a personal experience or event. The main purpose of the essay was to use visceral images and sesnsory detail to portray feelings without directly stating them. Becasue the essay could not be longer than two pages, it taught the writer to be concise and efficient. Once the essays were completed and graded, we recorded them in WebAudio so they could be on our websites. Like our first podcast, we added music and photographs to make it more interesting to the viewer.
Treasure Change
An overwhelming wave of dust fills my lungs, as I strain my neck to fit between the floor and box spring. My hands blindly reach for the treasure chest, enveloped in a cloud of soot. Silently, I pull the delicate wood with my bare hands out from under the bed, while I grit my teeth, praying it will survive the move. Sitting on the ancient mahogany floor, my cousin eagerly awaits. I place the chest between us, and I can’t help but run my fingertips along the cool, brass latch, waiting to pry it open. Hardly any time passes by, and impatience takes over. I unbolt the latch, and satisfaction runs through my body, hearing the squeak of the hinges as they stretch, leaving the top ajar. Our eyes meet for a brief moment, and we gently lift the lid, making sure it stays intact. Knowing what’s inside does not spoil our incredible excitement. A rainbow of colors meet my eyes, as an assortment of goodies grab my attention, and certain handwritten letters, linger in my mind.
Afraid there isn’t enough time, I race through each memory as fast as I can, hoping I don’t miss out on any. I come to one picture and stop. I brush my fingers along the glossy 4x6 photograph but feel my hands sink into the deep maroon velvet dresses with beads hanging limp from the overstretched string. I can hear my mother, saying, “CHEESE...burger,” to try and turn our ridiculously fake smiles, into natural laughs. Gingerly laying the photo back in place, I reach for the next item, a C.D. Before you know it I’m running across the room to insert the worn out disk into the laptop, hoping it plays even with the million scratches. Avril Lavigne fills the air, and the song that has not been played in five years, is still a tune that we both can sing along too. Each moment that lies inside anticipates our annual visit, and awaits the greeting of recent memories.
Her eyes pin me down like a bowling ball, as they contemplate my distracted face. A gust of memories swoosh by, like wind on an autumn evening. The recollections take me far away, back to when the moments were alive. A sudden whip of wind hits me in the face, and I’m brought back down to earth. The photograph that is being held two inches from my face is one big blur. In identical tie-dye bathing suits, we stand in diva like positions, sticking our tongues out for the camera. Our skin, is fresh with freckles from the hot Jamaican sun. More than anything I wish to go back in time and relive the summer vacation we took to the tropical island. Where our only worries consisted of removing the sand from our cute tie-dye bikinis. My attention shifts when I notice my cousin’s brochure of Brown University lying inside the chest. Holding it up at it’s very corner, I drop it, watching her face as she sees it sink to the floor. She storms out of the room, slams the door, leaving the old wood floors to vibrate beneath me. As I sit there stunned, it begins to dawn on me why I refuse to let the brochure be anywhere near the chest. While Sadie is so accepting of college, and the changes that are going to happen in the next couple years, I’m not. Everything in the box is a childhood memory, and college does not seem fitting.
As I tend to concentrate on the past, both the good and bad, I’ve hindered myself from a positive outlook on the future. Each memory from the chest has their own genetic makeup, yet they all share the commonality of existing in the past. Reminiscing too often encouraged me to object the notion of change, and I prevented myself from seeing the possibility of new excursions. I’ve never been one to cope well with change, but it wasn’t until recently that I discovered the obstacles I had set up for myself.
As I closed the trunk tight, a sudden relief escaped my body. I left my fear of change to be trapped inside. Sticking my head for the second time between the floor and box spring, I slid the chest into place. My worries of forgetting the past were now over. The time has come, and I’m moving forward, hoping to find new treasures.