A Short Story Of Pack Up And Go

In life, especially as kids, we have choices to either be cool or respect our family's rules. In the story, “ Your Move” By Eve Bunting, the protagonist, James, has the choice to join the K- bones or keep the trust from his family. Therefore, he learns that caring more about his family is more important than caring about his so called “friends.”

They both loved to travel and sadly met

My mom always use to tell me that her moments of happiness came by surprise, and that I should

Driving across the golden gate bridge is a sight to see. Well it is a site o see if you can see through the layers of thick fog and if your car sat up high enough you could see out over the bridge. The air was not freezing, but there was a chill in the breeze that gave me goose bumps. Driving down crooked roads, and eating the sourdough bread instead of the soup inside it are special memories. It was a few days in San Francisco last summer that gave me a love for somewhere other than home.

The birds, squirrels, and fishes living in tranquility. The daylight there is an early riser, while the night feels like a mother rocking her baby; peaceful. Therefore, the nights are so still that only the beautiful harmony of the crickets could be heard. The green tree looks so alive, they were standing large and stiff. There was even the opportunity of exploring the mountain trails. It was amazing being able to experience something completely different, especially when it was just a few days from starting my junior year. The memories from that trip will be unforgettable.

Memories can last a life time, so we tend to only remember the extraordinary ones. Extraordinary like the essay “The Yellow Ribbon” by Pete Hamill, in which he talks about how a person named Vingo, was riding on a, bus recently released from jail, to this oak tree explaining to some passengers that he had told his wife to leave him if she wanted, since he went to jail or to go to this oak tree and tie a yellow ribbon around it to see if she wants him to stick around and he will go and check it out. In the end, he saw hundreds of ribbons tied on to the tree. Not only is this an amazing story, but also very unforgettable one as well, because he finds out that after four years in jail his wife has enough love for him to go to this tree and tie hundreds of ribbons just to show the type of love the women had for Vingo. I have to say that, I believe this story is truly unforgettable, but I also got a story that is very extraordinary, like the time that I got my very first car. Furthermore, I didn’t just get a car, I got the love of two truly loving parents.

After nine years in 1999, the couple finally decided to leave. When asked why they decided to leave her response was “we wanted to leave while we still wanted to stay.” Since 18 years has past there has been plenty of time for reflection in Henrietta’s life to look back at her experience. “It was a grace filled time,” she explains with warmth in her voice. The memories have stayed with her to this day. “It doesn’t matter what you have, you can do it,” she chuckles, looking at a photo of a straw hut being built. Henrietta looks up and in her eyes one can see the happiness and wisdom this experience brought

Headlines darted across the screen like a swarm of bees. There was no order to which they appeared or disappeared. The screen was traffic cone orange with little black specks in it. The headlines came in large purple font. Something must have happened to the news station in all the chaos.

I went to Niagara Falls when I was about 12. I stepped out of the car and just hearing the incredible sound of the Falls, I was taken. It was so loud, just a huge roar of all the water going over the edge. It surprised me because I didn’t think it would be that loud. It only got louder and louder as I got to the rail by the edge of the fall. Seeing the view of the falls took my breath away. Between the blue of the flowing river water, the white of the rough water falling over the side, and the mist of the water splattering off the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall, I was taken by its glory. Add on the view of the city too and it was just an amazing experience for me.

Some of my favorite precious moments happened in grandmas kitchen each and every time we visit. Whether it was just eating some of her delicious cookies or dancing, talking, or watching the windows. The atmosphere all around grandmas house was filled with lots of sweetness joy and peace inside and out. The smell of sweet cookies over home cooked meals covering flung over the table. Fresh cold drinks like grandma got it straight from the sky. There was lemonade, milk, and coffee smelling like she hand made them with the ripest lemons, milk straight from the cow and coffee fresh from the beans. Only grandma could make it smell like that.

It was Raoul, and I wished for him to go away. He knocked again then stuck his head around the door. ‘How are you?’ he asked with concern. Anger overcame me.

“My name,” she repeated, this time more steadily, “is Elizabeth .” My Father’s expression changed drastically, now the face that was once a little annoyed, began to morph to pure anger. All these years no one ever talked back to my Father, not once has anyone ever said anything against him. Time slowed down as he began to raise an arm to discipline my Ma, but bit his lip in regret and retreated to the couch across the room. Everyone froze in the silence. Nobody in this household would ever hit a lady, especially someone who does as much for us as my Ma. He was such a nice man, so handsome and helpful, why would he even think about hitting my Ma? I watched as he slouched into the crevice that's been created in

To relate the topic of nostalgia with food to my life, I recall a cherished memory I have about making enchiladas with my grandma when I was nine. My mom’s father is hispanic, but her mother is not, so she learned how to make hispanic food just for him. I have always admired this, because she learned how to do this just to make my grandpa happy. She made us many hispanic dishes, but my favorite is still her enchiladas. I still remember the smell of the chicken and beef that my grandma had prepared

As a child, people will always remember certain destinations that stick with them that made a good impression. I have a place that not only made a good impression, it changed me. It made me think off all the things in life people take for granted; places, people, activates. This place brought all though special things in life to one place where I can enjoy them all at the same time. The Oregon coast. Traveling there, as a kid was always special. Waking up early in the morning and driving the long trip there, going through forests, valleys, and cities.

There are certain memories that we have that we can remember like they happened yesterday. Many of those memories that have special meaning to me were of family vacations when I was young growing up with my brothers and sisters. Family memories are important to many of us because they take us back to a time or place that was special. One particular family vacation I remember vividly, and it’s a story I have shared with my kids on many occasions. Over the 40 or more years since that memorable vacation, I still smile and think how lucky I was growing up with a mother and father that did everything to give their kids an unforgettable memory.