Descriptive Essay On Checking Day

When we arrived at the house, I stood there for about five seconds before knocking on the door. They didn’t answer at first, so I knocked again, harder, and then saw the handle start to move. My stomach filled with butterflies as I watched the door slowly open. The face that greeted was one of a two year old, and as I looked up I saw her father standing over her.

My mom spoke very little to each of us and seemed to be gone longer and longer each day until Saturday, which was moving day. That Saturday I had a band concert for relay for life at my local park. As the performance came to an end my best friend and I hop in the backseat of her mom's sweltering car and crank up the radio. We listen to our favorite throwbacks as her mom speeds down the streets rushing to get me home. As we pull in the drive, an unfamiliar vehicle idles in my driveway. Inside my house lays all of my moms belongings neatly piled up by the door waiting to be taken. My mom greets me at the door and introduces me to her boyfriend. He is much taller than me and talks down to me as if I'm a child. I cut the conversation short and sit on the couch with my dog Casey as they continue moving her things. After the last item is hauled away, my mom looks at me through the glass of the front door and says “I'll pick up Casey later.” and vanishes without another

She tried to hurry herself, but her little stubborn legs and heat prevented her to do so. As she continues to approach to you slowly, she finally made it. Now into your arms, where [D/N] lay her head onto your shoulder. You both walked in the dreadful heat.

We get to our house and I look at my dad, he nods. I put my hand on the door handle and turn. My mom looks at me I can see a huge smile grow on her face. Tears of joy run down her face.

My brother my mom and I had just came from our grandmothers birthday. Running to the doorstep, laughing and relieved to be home. Mom was on her phone, rustling through her bag for the keys to the house, speaking in a calm tone. Then like a canary in a coal mine she stopped talking and hung up abruptly. Staring blankly at a silhouette on a man approaching us. A car was parked by the curb with another man sitting inside. The man about 10 feet from us, but it seemed closer. It felt like the man was towering over me

The only reason I had come here was to get my car keys, which I had dropped when I myself was crying, taking reprieve from the evils in school. Despite the scrub being absolutely crowded back then, not one person had come up to comfort me and that had hurt ten times worse than any words that spilled out of the bullies’ mouth. So, feeling determined to pull him out of his anguish, I plucked my small reserve of courage and sat beside him. Just so that he would know that he isn’t alone. Around five minutes later I heard him

“Come on Izzy hurry up and get dressed. You don’t want to miss your flight.” My mom hollered to get me moving.

The sun was blazing in the sky, it was a warm summer afternoon and my sister and I were home alone, waiting for my parents to come home from work. In the ten minutes of them arriving, there was another gentle knock on the door followed by a very unusually quiet and seemingly humble voice.

We went back upstairs and immediately got back to work. Mom couldn 't get inside the closet to the hard-to-reach places, but sadly I could. I plopped myself inside my mom 's dark and dusty closet. Mom said she was running downstairs to get some garbage bags for old clothes. After she left, I looked inside the closet and saw a little shining light. I reached for the light and found this old dusty journal like book. I took the book with me and saw

My mother was already awake when I walked out to the living room. She had a smile on her face. I did not even need to ask if Brian had arrived; her smile was the only explanation needed. Mom told me to get dressed, for Brian and my father were on the road and that we were to meet them at the university. We were riding in my uncle 's car along with my aunty. We departed from the house that morning to the university down the road. The trip wasn 't long at all, it took just five minutes, but it felt like an eternity. As we were pulling into the university I saw an olive colored Jeep Cherokee and told my uncle to stop because that was the car Brian was in. I couldn 't possibly know what car he was in, but Uncle stopped and parked anyways. As we exited our vehicle, the door of the Jeep swung open. A chubby fair skinned boy stepped out of the Jeep. "Clive", he yelled. "Brian!", I yelled back. He ran towards me and hugged me. My mother joined in on the hug too. It was a very emotional moment. After the shock had settled in I noticed that my father was also there. Although I was too young to remember his face I recognized him and gave him a hug. The whole thing felt great and I thought we were Just going to go back home together. Boy was I wrong.

I awoke the next morning, wondering if I did actually see him, I mean my mom said that that house was as vacant as it gets, and it has been like that since she had been a kid like me. Maybe I saw something that I had mistaken as a boy. I let the idea drift a bit, but I still had it my mind. I would make sure of it that I would go to that house on the way home from school that day. And I did. This time I approached the house I went slower, and once I was close enough I started to shout: “Hello! I saw you yesterday, I know I saw you yesterday. And thanks to you my mother thinks I’m crazy.” I pause, and feel my voice break “please tell me I 'm not crazy.”

The next day, I knocked on the front door waiting patiently for someone to open the door. When my mother finally opened the door she said,"I 'm so sorry, I was making breakfast. How did everything go?"

That first bus ride was noisy, confusing and intimidating, somewhere along the way I developed a lifelong fear of older kids. One of the kindergarteners seated across the aisle began to take stock and organize. Each of us were holding a red nametag with our teacher’s name on it, so she started by finding out who was in which class. It quickly became obvious that I was the only one in Mrs. French’s class. I was awed by her direct attitude and immediately shrank from her in fear.

“To your grandma’s house!” my mom hollered. I heard her coming up the stairs to collect me and my things.

“Yes, mother?” I called, trying to hide my irritation, this was the sixth time she had called my name in the last half hour to ask a question. The door banged opened, and my mom barged inside.