Descriptive Essay On A Day To Love

The journey that Richard and Mildred Loving took is important for history and for the future of civil rights in the United States. I recently watched the documentary The Loving Story and enjoyed the footage, pictures, and interviews of everyone involved in the Loving v. Virginia case. The documentary addressed the issue of interracial marriage in Virginia in 1967.

"Well today all that is going to change!" I laugh. "How have you never had funnel cake!"

Thesis- Finding your favorite pastry can be very hard with so many choices to choose from; however, when examining cookies or cupcakes one notices cookies are far more superior due to their convenience, flavors, and quality.

A single beam of light shone thru the curtain. The specs of dust in the room danced between the rays, whisked into the air by the pleasant breeze tip toeing thru the screen door. I could feel the warmth on my cheek as I rose from the sheets, thoroughly rested. I briskly got ready, slipping on my tennis shoes, old and worn. Stepping outside, I was greeted by the painfully sweet aroma of sweet pea flowers, entranced by the blissful gleams of sunlight, and spellbound by the familiar screeching of parrots, flocking in clouds of bright vermilion.

“just grab what you want and hide it like you do with the cookies your mom doesn’t want u to eat,” I told her.

“I loved the chocolate chip cookies you always made for me. You would always sing while you were baking or cooking.” Kendall said.

The steam from the pots rose to the top of the military tents, and Milton Hershey tried to keep the hot air from causing his hair to flair upwards. He tried to remember his life five years ago, when he was doing something he truly loved. Although, he supposes cooking is the next best thing, even if he isn’t making confectionaries like he did when he was a child. Despite his family’s bakery and sweets business, Milton Hershey had always had other plans in his life. While his father had a natural talent for making his sweets and never used a standard recipe, Milton Hershey was different. He liked to be precise when helping his father out, and he took note of the different combinations of chocolate and their colors and flavors. His parents don’t

My face is warmed by the fading light, I am conscious of every detail around me; My heart racing in my chest, Delightful chirping of the crickets, The wind that snakes through my hair, Blows past my ears, Calling my name. Effulgent and infinite, I ride into the sunset, Never to return.

“No one can pass up home-made cookies. It'll be just the ice breaker we'll need.”

Once the cookies were ready and dishes were cleaned, our next step as “chefs” was to try our creations. When biting into half the cookie, my mouth was filled with fudgey, gooey chocolate. My taste buds thanked me for having such a sweet tooth and I continued to eat two more cookies. When breaking apart the cookies, I was easily allowed to divide them without crumbs falling out because of the amount of flour—gives cookies structure—in the recipe. The inside of the dessert was soft, fluffy, and moist. With these delicious flavors, came some bad ones. As a lover of chocolate, it is strange to hear myself say the recipe called for too much chocolate. Because the cocoa powder was darker than the chocolate the recipe called for, it overtook the sweetness and at times ruined

“Not even close. I am super flustered with it all. I have two today and three tomorrow.” I said while grabbing a spoon. “I currently have notes, over notes, over notes. And the thing is I know I i’m going to fail”

I saw her in my sights. At that moment I looked back at my trials it took to be here, the one day William wanted to see the outside, the day that started it all. William my beautiful son ,one month old at the time, was constantly crying I took him to many doctors hoping for an answer but he was only called weird, I never accepted their answers, we loved him. Once my husband, Robert left a wave of relief fell over me, I glanced at the cuts and bruises he gave me from last night and felt the heat rising under my skin. William loved our farm in Kansas, when he would cry as hard as hail I would take him outside and his eyes would light up. Anna called from the kitchen, “ Bye Mom, I love you. See you after school”.

It’s Valentine’s Day and I replay the scene from a year ago in my mind. Just like a referee, I examine the play closely to determine exactly what happened that fateful day. My husband was packing. He came out of the bedroom and bounced down the steps like a child beginning summer vacation. Engrossed in my thoughts, I jump when the phone rings.

My day begins again with a drone of the same ringtone of the alarm. Getting up to open the window forgetting about the same old raven bird that stares at me with its whole black eyes sending you into a black spiral. The sense of nostalgia hits, rain leaves its own scent like the scent of an ex-lover’s. After all eternity doesn’t wait for the past to catch up, you just keep on going with your life as I have. Making my way to the kitchen I avoid all the papers on the floor scattered like a tornado threw up and shredded its life. My hands twitches to grab the phone eager to check for the ghost messages and calls. Putting down my arm as soons as it raises “don’t do it”. I turn in circles to find someone but in its leave was nothing. “ I know” I whispered to no one. The hallway was filled with darkness except for one room whose light was slowly dimming. Darting past the shadowed hands reaching for me I went into the room. Searching for that dark grey raincoat that was hung up on a hanger in the half empty closet.

Love is an abundant emotion that has different degrees. There is familial love, friendly love, unconditional love, and of course romantic love. Romantic love will be the superstar of this article. Romantic love may be around every corner whether between an old couple or a young teenage romance. However, love is not the easiest thing to attain. It is such a simple concept, though a difficult thing to actually have a person’s hands on.