“Cops and Robbers”
Playing cops and robbers. My brother and I play this all the time… but now it’s scary. It’s scary. Why? My brother has the rifle. How he got it, I don’t know. I’m hiding and I can hear him following me. He doesn’t know any better and yet it’s just as scary. I pop out of my hiding place and scream at him to stop. I slip and he shoots. It hits my ear. Blood pours. Like staring into a red-tinted mirror, I can see my reflection in the blood. He screams. Rushed to the hospital but I’m okay. It’s just my ear. Just my ear. -Grandpa Curt
The smell wafted up from the stove. Mmmmm this was going to be one great quesadilla. The lighting was perfect, just bright enough to make the room feel earthy as if you were in your own home with the fire lit. At least that’s how it felt for a while. Outside the snow was piling up in snow drifts and I was glad that they had the heater on – even if I did never wear sweatshirts or pants. It started to get confusing though. It seemed as if they had looked over me. In their eyes, I was like a little bug; insignificant and a waste of their time. What had happened to my quesadilla? After two or three more people had passed me I decided this was enough I grabbed two peppermints to show my unappreciation for this establishment. How could they forget my delicious warm quesadilla with the two chocolate-dipped strawberries? I shuffled away and searched for my family among the bustling people in the restaurant. But… where were they. I stepped outside into the snow. The cars were gone. My heart dropped like a ton of bricks straight to my toes. Maybe that’s why they felt pain all of a sudden or was that just the cold? I sat there for a moment snow rushing around my legs. I shivered and began to cry. Snot and tears running down my face I turned back to see if they had just decided to put the car somewhere else but it was all for naught. They had driven back to the hotel. I sat there in silence letting the snow pile up on my pants. I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. Could it be my mother? No, it was not. But it was a woman. She looked down at me and smiled. Are you lost? I wasn’t sure what to say. I burst into tears. My family had left me and I did not know the way back to the hotel. How was I ever going to see my family again? She offered me her phone. I called my mother. Remembering that just a year ago I had been required to memorize it for Kindergarten. My sister picked it up. Asking who it was I responded with a sniveling voice that it was I, the one who had been left behind, the one who had been left to die. Sadly I did not respond like that but broke into tears asking where mom had gone and whimpering that I had been left at the restaurant. She screamed. She ran and got my aunt who proceeded to fly into a panicked frenzy over the phone asking if I was alright. As it turned out I was meant to get a ride with her but she had forgotten and left me behind. Before I could ask what was happening she shouted that my Uncle Mitch was on his way and hung up. I sat back on the ground hoping that I would not have to stay with this lady who did such a weird thing as drink coffee. I began to cry again thinking I would have to live with this lady who drank coffee like it was the only acceptable replacement for water. I would die here with a new mother in Utah. Oh, the misery. Thankfully, I was saved from this misery by my Uncle who arrived ten minutes later. I will never forget that night at Cafe Rio.
“Sleeping at the Rose Parade Track”
Midnight hits. Then the screams begin “Happy New Year”. Tortillas fly everywhere, across the street shaving cream is sprayed. But it’s cold. Dropping below 40, although that may not be bad in other states we’re in California. We’ve been staying warm by playing soccer and running around. But it’s become cold. Even the adults have hunkered down inside their sleeping bags, trying to keep warm. It’s the coldest Rose Parade night we’ve ever had. And we have to get some sleep if we’re going to survive the 4-hour parade tomorrow. But nonetheless, we all lay down and slept. Even if it was for 2 hours.
I sat down. Crying. Flip flops. Backpack 7 miles. I wouldn’t do it. Parent yelling. What do I do? Nothing. Tears flowed. I didn’t want to be here. Why did I have to come? My friend walked over. He sat down. Whispering. You can do it. Let me help you. My arm moved; shoulder lifted. He stood by me and we started walking. We made it all the way. 7 miles completed. How could I do it without you? Without your lift?
What a load! We were on the way to Father’s and Son’s, a camping trip hosted annually by our church, when we stopped by the grocery store. Anything you want he said. My tiny 5-year-old brain went into hyper-drive grabbing anything within sight. I was quickly stopped. Only one bag of chips for each of us, a bag of candy, and soda. I thought quickly. What could I grab that would ensure that my little tummy would get the maximum amount of sugar? I grabbed a Family Size bag of Doritos. He had said one bag, right? I then grabbed the largest bag of Sour Gummi Brite Crawlers I could. Finally, I went to the soda section. But… which should I get. The Sprite or the Cactus Cooler. They both looked so good. My dad walked over. Seeing my indecision he grabbed both. It’s special, isn’t it? We made it to the campout. I’ve never had a more enjoyable time. Chugging sodas, snacking, eating hotdogs, and smores. It seemed like my stomach would never run out. The next day we headed back home. What a party! Oooh, what was that pain in my stomach? The road was making me feel sick and the sugary snacks weren’t making it any better. We got home. I walked out of the car. Legs as wobbly as a sea-faring newbie. I looked at the ground. I hurled. It seemed rainbow. Yuck!